Chapter Ten of 'Imago'- The Second Task

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Chapter Ten—The Second Task

Harry closes his eyes when Theo tells him about Weasley and Granger confronting him on the way to the Owlery. And then he shakes his head and sighs, and reaches up to clasp Theo’s arm.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers. “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to ignore it unless one of them says something about you in front of me. Or if they confront you again. I just…”

Theo understands what Harry means without his saying it. Dealing with the people who used to be his best friends is tiring and painful. And Harry would rather ignore it and just—keep going in other ways. Theo can understand that perfectly.

“Have you spent more time with Longbottom in the last week?” he asks, leaning against Harry. They’re in “their” classroom, the one where Theo taught Harry to dance and they had their Christmas celebration, and which right now has a few old desks that Theo has Transfigured into a couch. Harry is sprawled along the seat, and Theo finds leaning on him instead of the back surprisingly comfortable.

“Yeah. And Ron and Hermione said nothing. And frankly, Neville’s a lot of fun once you get to know him.”

Theo smiles, and pulls out a book. Behind him, Harry does the same. Theo catches sight of the title, Waters and Watery Creatures, and blinks. “Why are you reading that?” he asks. He doesn’t think they’re doing that next in their Care of Magical Creatures class.

“I think I’ve figured out the clue in the golden egg.”

Theo turns around enough to see Harry’s face, and blinks again. “Really? I know you thought it was some sort of code, but I didn’t know that you’d cracked it.”

“I got a warning from Diggory about listening to the egg underwater, and he told me the password to the Prefects’ bathroom.” Harry ducks his head and shrugs when Theo stares at him. “Sorry. I would have told you, but I sort of forgot.”

Theo relaxes. As long as Harry’s not keeping secrets deliberately, this is fine. “And you went in, and listened to the egg underwater?”

“Yes. It’s Mermish. Some kind of warning about how they’re going to take something from me, and I have an hour to get it back.” Harry exhales slowly and shows Theo the cover of the book again. “So I’m reading about this to learn spells that I can use underwater, and which I can use to help me swim. Because I really can’t.”

“We can work on that.”

“We can?”

Theo would feel insulted by most other people sounding that incredulous, but this is Harry, who hasn’t had positive reinforcement almost ever in his life. He laughs. “Yes, of course. I taught you to dance. Why can’t I teach you to swim?”

“No reason, I suppose. Other than I thought maybe it would be beneath your dignity to swim in the lake in January.”

“That’s what magic is for,” Theo says, “and snogging afterwards, to get us warm again.” And he waggles his eyebrows to make Harry laugh.

They go back to their reading, Theo paying attention to Harry’s breathing and heartbeat whenever he wants, reaching lazily back to touch him whenever he wants. And Harry responds with a soft sigh and a resting of his cheek in Theo’s palm what feels like every other minute.

It’s absorbing. It’s enthralling.

And Theo will never give this up, not for his father, and not for the Dark Lord, and not for all the stupid requests that Hogwarts professors can make of him.

*

Draco has had the sense not to talk to Skeeter again, but then Skeeter publishes an article about Harry “pining for” Ginny Weasley, and Theo is reminded of his determination to do something about her. He waits until he sees her walking across the grounds, away from Hagrid’s hut. The gamekeeper has been out with Madame Maxime and to teach their Magical Creatures class, but Theo can’t fault his decision to hide from Skeeter.

Theo walks quickly over to intercept her. Skeeter turns and watches him coming with interest, which to Theo only proves she can’t know that much about him.

“If it isn’t Mr. Theodorus Nott. Right?” Skeeter bats her eyelashes at him. “I’ve heard so much about you from Mr. Draco Malfoy. Are you ready to tell me what it’s like, to be Harry Potter’s boyfriend?”

“I could tell you that. I could tell you a lot. But—” And Theo makes a dramatic show of checking over his shoulder. “Not here. Do you know a place where it’s more private and we could speak without being overheard?”

Skeeter’s got a smile that could curdle milk, if she wanted.

*

They go to the Three Broomsticks, and Skeeter hands over a mess of Galleons to Madam Rosmerta that make her bring them butterbeer and then ignore them entirely. Theo tucks away the knowledge that Madam Rosmerta can be bribed and has probably taken money from Skeeter in the past. That’s something worth knowing.

“Do tell me, Mr. Nott,” Skeeter purrs as she poises her Quick-Quotes Quill over a piece of parchment. “What is it like, being the lover of the Chosen One?”

“Well, before I answer that question, I’m going to need some reassurance. Like this.” Theo flicks his wand and casts a spell that lights the Quick-Quotes Quill and the parchment both on fire.

Skeeter drops them both with a little shriek that makes Madam Rosmerta glance over at them for a moment. Theo uses his wand to put out the small fires that would otherwise have started on the table and the floor, and sips from his butterbeer, waiting. Skeeter leans back in her chair and stares at him.

“Why did you do that, Theodorus?” She seems to have decided that she should play the part of an older woman scolding a naughty schoolboy. “Did you think I was going to write down lies? I assure you, I wouldn’t have—”

Theo leans closer and drops his mask, to show her what Draco saw. Her mouth and eyes both widen, and she says nothing, her voice catching with a nasty click in her throat.

“Don’t patronize me,” Theo whispers. “I can destroy you. I’m thinking about it, for the part you’ve played in making Harry’s year miserable so far. For the part you’ve played in making Harry’s friends miserable.”

Skeeter licks her lips and tries a tinkling laugh, this time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Theodorus. I simply write what I’m told.”

“No, you make up lies. But I’m not going to tolerate it any longer. Do you have any idea what will happen if one of your articles about Harry winds up in the paper again?”

“Yes,” Skeeter snaps, some of the color coming back into her face. “I make a lot of money and the Prophet gains a lot of readers. Don’t think you can frighten me or threaten me, boy. You’re just fourteen—”

“A fourteen-year-old who knows all sorts of spells,” Theo says, and casts before Skeeter can retrieve her wand from the holster that he thinks is along her left arm. “Ombras animae.”

Skeeter’s mouth shudders open, and hangs there like that. Theo sits back with a smile and tucks his own wand away, sipping his butterbeer, while she deals with the horrifying vision conjured in front of her eyes, something only she can see.

When she finally slumps back in her seat and closes her eyes, whimpering softly, Theo leans across the table to pat her hand. She shudders back from him, but Theo doesn’t let her go too far, leaning in closer still so that he can whisper to her. “That’s what you’ll see every night and day for the rest of your life if you write another article about Harry, or that even mentions or alludes to him. I suggest you ask yourself if it’s worth it.”

“Y—you can’t control it,” Skeeter whispers. Her eyes open, shiny with tears. Theo wonders academically what her vision was. Theo knows exactly what his was when his father cast that spell on him, although he suspects that his vision of his mother dying might be replaced with one of Harry dying now. “I didn’t hear you make an oath or say anything when you cast that spell. And if I’m going to see it anyway, why shouldn’t I go ahead and write the articles?”

Theo smiles. She’s bluffing, but it’s a rather good bluff. He can admire an opponent who tries this kind of thing, for all that she won’t win. “The spell obeys the caster’s will. I don’t want you to write articles about Harry. So that’s what you’ll see if you do. Try it. Take out a piece of parchment and put a quill to it with the intention of writing something about Harry.”

Skeeter swallows, and doesn’t move.

“What?” Theo asks softly. “It was only a bluff, surely? A joke? Something you don’t believe I can do?”

Skeeter looks away from him and wipes at her wet cheeks. “All right,” she whispers. “You win. But you should know that I’ll hate you forever for this. What if I write articles about you?”

“Well, anything that mentions or refers to Harry is still out,” Theo says helpfully, while he shoves his chair back and stands from the table. “And I can’t imagine that I’m of much interest to you otherwise. You could still try, of course. It might be interesting to see what you come up with him.”

Skeeter stares at him, still trembling. “I don’t understand you at all.”

“I imagine you don’t understand anyone whose primary motives aren’t fame and money,” Theo says, and smiles at her, and walks out of the Three Broomsticks.

As he walks up the path to the school, he finds he’s glad that his father used that particular curse to make Theo stop asking about his mother. Nothing about how Theo couldn’t defy him in general, or had to follow the Dark Lord, or had to obey him.

Now Theo is free to do whatever he needs to do to ensure Harry’s safety without seeing a vision of horror in front of him every time he does it. He’s smiling as he sticks his hands in his robe pockets and wanders off to find Harry.

*

“What is going on?”

Theo keeps his voice low as Professor Snape guides him up to the Headmaster’s office with an iron grip on his arm. Professor Snape pauses to give him a quick, sardonic look before the door.

“You were the one who brought this on yourself, boy. I told you to distance yourself from Potter. But you were so sure that you knew better.” Professor Snape shakes his head. “This is one of the consequences.” And he knocks on the Headmaster’s door and ushers Theo inside before Theo can even protest.

“Ah, there you are, Severus. Mr. Nott.”

Dumbledore’s greeting is a lot cooler for Theo than it is for Professor Snape. Theo reckons he’s supposed to be worried about that, but his eyes are too busy darting among the other people present in the office. Madame Maxime (standing against a wall that Theo is sure must have space-expansion charms on it). Karkaroff. Ludo Bagman and Percy Weasley, who is apparently standing in for Barty Crouch yet again. A small silver-haired girl who looks a lot like Delacour. Granger. Chang.

A cold feeling settles into the bottom of his stomach. He and Harry have practiced their swimming, and the water-breathing spells that will let Harry stay beneath the surface for an hour, but they thought it would be Harry’s broom that the merfolk took, or maybe his Invisibility Cloak. Not people.

Granger glances at Theo and then down at the floor, biting her lip. Dumbledore claps his hands and beams at them all. “Now, as you may or may not know, the Second Task will involve the Champions diving into the lake to retrieve things they’ll sorely miss from the merfolk village there. They will have one hour to find you. But don’t worry, you won’t be in any danger! It’s simply that they won’t receive as many points if they don’t fetch you and return within the hour. You’ll be under a sleep spell until your heads clear the surface.”

The little Delacour girl looks confused, but Madame Maxime is translating for her in French. Granger smiles. “I understand, professor. Of course.”

Chang nods, too. Theo supposes she’s there for Diggory, and, well, probably likes the thought of Diggory coming to rescue her, the Hufflepuff in shining metaphorical armor that he is.

“Mr. Nott?”

Theo becomes aware that he’s the only one who hasn’t nodded or otherwise indicated approval of the plan. He stares at Dumbledore. “Are the Champions aware that we’re in no danger?”

“Oh, it’s obvious if you think about it!” Granger breaks in before Dumbledore can answer. “The Champions consented to being entered, they agreed to be in danger, but we didn’t, so they can’t—”

“My Champion didn’t.”

Granger shuts up, at least. She flushes, too. Theo turns back to Dumbledore, glad that he’s made his point. “So the Champions aren’t aware,” he says, mind flashing through the various ways that he might be able to get a message off to Harry before the Task begins. It’s a pity that he doesn’t know how to cast a Patronus, given that he’s read they can act as messengers.

“No. Of course, their urgency might be somewhat diminished if they knew,” says Bagman, and then rubs his hands together and chuckles as if he’s made some kind of joke worthy of the name.

Theo turns and stares at the man in silence, and Bagman flushes heavily.

“I am afraid,” Dumbledore says with a lack of sincerity so marked that Karkaroff looks at him oddly, “that we cannot allow you to tell Mr. Potter, either, Mr. Nott. He cannot have an unfair advantage over the other Champions. If you decline to be placed at the bottom of the lake, you will be put under a sleeping spell but kept here, and Mr. Weasley will be chosen as what Mr. Potter will most miss.”

It’s a threat that works on multiple levels, especially since Theo has no idea when that sleep spell would end. He inclines his head without looking away from the spot on Dumbledore’s robes he’s chosen to avoid Legilimency. “Then I’ll remember that he doesn’t know, and I consent to the sleep spell.”

Dumbledore pauses, as if expecting something more than that, but Theo has locked his blandest expression on his face, and Dumbledore won’t be able to find a way around that unless he manages to catch Theo’s eye, which he won’t be permitting. In the end, Dumbledore sighs and draws his wand.

Theo doesn’t try to fight the spell as it settles around him, thick and muffling, but he clings to the knowledge that Harry doesn’t know, and that he can be there for Harry instead of Weasley, and that—

That he is asleep.

*

“Theo!”

Harry’s voice is shouting right in his ear. Theo splutters back to life, and finds himself staring up at the brilliant sun. They’ve reached the surface of the lake, and Harry is swimming towards the shore with a stroke so strong that Theo feels himself hauled along for a bit. Then he manages to win free of Harry’s arms—with a little reluctance—and starts swimming himself. Harry gives him an anxious smile and shakes his head. The gills from the spells he studied break apart into drops of water on his skin and slide into the lake.

“You’re all right?” Theo studies Harry as best as he can for wounds while they’re still swimming.

“Yeah.” Harry glances at him. “It was a good thing I read that book on water creatures, though. I was able to get away from the grindylows myself and stop them from attacking Delacour. That way, I didn’t feel obliged to rescue her little sister when I got down there and saw her.”

Theo carefully doesn’t roll his eyes at the notion of helping Delacour. She’s not competition to Harry, he reminds himself. She’s just someone else caught up in this Tournament, and that she volunteered for it wouldn’t matter that much to Harry once he saw the little girl in danger. Because that’s who Harry is.

That’s the only reason Theo has a chance with him at all.

“I wanted to let you know about the sleep spell and that we wouldn’t really be in danger,” Theo mutters as they finally reach the shore. He can see Madam Pomfrey waiting for them with a large blanket, and he has to say this before he gets swaddled and swept away by the mediwitch. “But Dumbledore said he would put me to sleep so I couldn’t tell you and put Weasley in my place. I didn’t want that to happen, especially when he might have forgotten to wake me up soon.”

Harry’s hand finds Theo’s and grips it crushingly. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispers. “I understand.”

Madam Pomfrey forcibly separates them as Theo comes up on the shore. Theo leans against Harry for a second anyway, and then sits back and looks around. Granger is already sitting next to Krum, shivering and talking to him. He can see Delacour still swimming towards the shore with the little girl—her sister?—in her arms, and Diggory is surfacing with Chang.

Harry got back second, it seems. But he won’t care about the points. His eyes are bright as he watches Theo, and Madam Pomfrey begins bustling around with more blankets and Warming Charms and Drying Charms and hot chocolate that Theo knows will be magically sweetened and heated.

Then Dumbledore says something to the other judges, and Harry turns his head and narrows his eyes as he stares at the Headmaster.

Theo smiles. He doesn’t mean to encourage dissension between Harry and the Headmaster, exactly—they still have to fight on the same side of their war—but it’s good to see Harry being more wary of the man and thinking more critically.

Anything that leads to a greater chance of survival for Harry is something to be encouraged, as far as Theo is concerned.