Harry Potter : The Archmage Awakens

After dinner, Hermione and I made our way to the common room, chatting quietly about classes and tomorrow's schedule.

"You've really been ahead in Charms lately," Hermione noted, glancing at me sideways. "It's impressive. Are you practicing without telling me?"

"Maybe," I teased, smirking. "Or maybe I'm just naturally gifted."

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched in amusement. "Well, I've always said you're talented, Harry, but before, you just weren't that interested in showing it."

"Guess I've had a change of heart," I said lightly.

"Well, you still need to be careful. That Summoning Charm you used today still lacked precision. Your book managed to smack Malfoy in the face."

"That," I said with a grin, "was perfectly executed."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head as we entered the common room.

Once we said our goodnights, I climbed the stairs to the dormitory, feeling the usual warmth of the Gryffindor Tower.

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The dormitory was quiet, save for the soft snores of my dorm mates. The curtains around their beds were drawn, and the golden glow of the enchanted torches flickered softly.

A barn owl perched on my bedpost, its talons gripping the wood as it gave a soft hoot of impatience. It shifted slightly as I approached, tilting its head to look at me.

I strode over and took the letter from its leg, murmuring a quick, "Thanks." I reached for the small pouch of owl snacks, I kept near Hedwig's stand and offered the bird a treat, which it snatched eagerly before fluttering to stand on the table near my table awaiting if I had any response for him.

The letter bore no name, but I didn't need one to know who it was from. Sirius.

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Harry —

I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted — we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody, I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose. Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.

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I wrote back immediately, confirming that I'd be there and sending the letter off with the same owl. It gave a low hoot before taking flight, disappearing into the darkness outside.

The next few days were uneventful. I spent time with Hermione, who continued to be her usual studious self, and Fred and George, who dragged me into their latest prank experiments.

One evening, I helped them test a prototype for their "Skiving Snackboxes." Despite my protests, George insisted I try a Nosebleed Nougat, and within seconds, I found myself clutching a tissue to my face as a torrent of blood poured from my nose.

They roared with laughter while shoving the antidote half of the snack into my hand.

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Rita Skeeter also published her article, but it seemed she'd taken my threat seriously.

While the piece was still centered around me, it only covered the events of the Wand Weighing Ceremony and refrained from twisting facts. Hermione, however, was less impressed.

"I still don't understand how she gets away with this," Hermione muttered, frowning at the article over breakfast. "She practically ignored Cedric!"

"Nothing new there," I said with a shrug. "She only cares about drama—and Cedric's too normal to sell papers."

"But still!" she insisted, her voice rising slightly. "The way she writes about Fleur—it's so shallow. And Krum? She only cares about his fame."

"She's a journalist, Hermione. That's what they do—drama sells. You should've seen the tabloids back in the Muggle world."

The article included small mentions of Viktor Krum, due to his fame, and Fleur Delacour, because of her beauty.

Cedric, on the other hand, was relegated to a passing mention as "the other Hogwarts champion."

Rita still tried to be sneaky, though. She had spoken to Colin Creevey, who eagerly mentioned Hermione as one of my closest friends.

Naturally, she twisted this into a narrative implying that Hermione was "someone very important" to me, portraying us as more than friends.

Which was something that neither Hermione nor me really cared that much about.

Without Ron around to third-wheel us, we'd grown closer—not romantically, but our friendship had deepened significantly.

Hermione only commented on how desperate the Wizarding world seemed for entertainment, dismissing the article with a shake of her head.

She tried patching things up between Ron and me at first, but I wasn't interested. After the article, Ron's jealousy only worsened, and she gave up.

"Let him think what he wants," I said, shrugging. "I'm done trying to make him see reason."

Hermione looked at me for a long moment, as if weighing her words. "You've changed, Harry. Not just with Ron—you're... more confident, more focused."

I shrugged again, trying to downplay it. "I've had to grow up, that's all."

"Still," she said thoughtfully, "it suits you. You seem... better."

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I spent more time in the room of requirement learning more about magic and also invented some spells of my own.

Meanwhile, I spent more time in the Room of Requirement, delving deeper into magic. I even managed to invent a few spells of my own.

My work on body magic had also paid off. I was now stronger, fitter, and taller than before.

My improved appearance didn't escape Hermione's notice, and she had commented on it more than once.

"Have you been working out?" she asked one afternoon as we walked back from Herbology.

"Not exactly," I said, amused.

"Well, whatever you're doing, it's working," she said, giving me an approving once-over. "You've definitely changed. Even your hair looks better."

"Thanks, I think?"

She laughed. "It's a compliment, Harry. Just... don't let Fred and George catch wind of it. They'll never let you hear the end of it."

I had also practiced spells to better control a dragon, though I was still debating how to approach the First Task. It wasn't much of a threat to me anymore—if anything, the challenge was choosing how to handle it.

Flashy? Sneaky? Cunning? With my magic, I had too many options.

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