Redlining

In complete opposition to the way he'd ascended, George was practically freefalling down the moving staircases. The paintings gasped and screamed as they watched a purple-haired boy jump down two stories in a single bound. He was still adjusting to his strength and consequently overshot his landing. George's momentum caused him to hit the ground hard and tumble into a wall.

What would have normally put a student in a hospital bed only gave George a few scuffs which healed almost instantly. He quickly scrambled back to his feet and sprinted out of the castle. He arrived at a balcony and could clearly see the quidditch pitch. The only problem was the cliff face and the kilometre of Scottish Greenland in the way.

As far as George could tell, he had two options. Run to the courtyard on the other side of the school and cross the bridge, costing him time he didn't have. Or… George looked over the balcony at the sheer drop. He could take a more direct route. George felt now was the time to test his new body's durability. Technically, he'll only be falling a little higher than the average Beater would in a quidditch match.

After a few moments of deliberation, George climbed over the balcony and lowered himself over the edge. A portion of the Forbidden Forest rapped around the cliff on which Hogwarts castle resided. With a powerful enough push, George felt confident he could land in the tree's canopy. Like an Olympic swimmer, he planted his feet against the side of the castle wall before pushing off with all of his strength.

In the brief time he was falling, George twisted himself around to face the rapidly approaching trees. Any sense of controlling his descent left him once he hit the top of the canopy. His body twisted and turned violently as he collided with every single branch on his way down to the forest floor. Around halfway down the tree, George's robe snagged on a particularly wide branch which halted his descent.

George attempted to wiggle himself free but to no avail. The tree wasn't willing to let go of his robe no matter how hard he pulled. Instead of reducing yet another robe to rags, he opted to leave it behind and come back for it later. George slipped out of his robes and fell the last half dozen yards. He landed on all fours, sending fallen leaves and dried soil into the air.

Other than the sound of birds chirping and the winds howling, the forest was completely silent. George perked his ears and checked his surroundings. All though he was on the outskirts, this was still the Forbidden Forest. He'd made a rather loud entrance and wouldn't be surprised if the forest's occupants hadn't taken notice. Luckily, he neither saw nor heard anything approaching him.

Once George had confirmed his imminent safety, he looked down to see how well his body had fared from the fall. He could feel a sharp stinging sensation from his abdomen and a cold liquid dripping down his leg. As he'd guest, a branch had pierced his white shirt and was sticking out of his stomach. Blood was dripping out of the wound and dying his clothes purple.

George grabbed onto the branch firmly and yanked it out, causing a spray of blood to paint the forest floor. Then he pinched the wound close with one hand and conjured a flame with the other. George gritted his teeth while holding the flame against the wound until it had time to cauterise. His blood clotted and sealed the injury within mere moments. Hopefully, his body would take care of the internal bleeding.

Probably due to the smell of his blood, George started to hear rustling deeper into the forest. Luckily, within a matter of seconds, he was back at one hundred per cent. He ran in the opposite direction of the potential predators and soon exited the Forbidden Forest. With nothing more than an empty field between him and the quidditch pitch, George wanted to see how fast he could go.

As his strength continued to increase, George's speed kept accelerating to inhuman levels. He'd easily surpassed the running pace of a professional sprinter. Every bound left a deep footprint in the soil as he closed the distance to the quidditch pitch.

"Come on, give me more. MORE!", George bellowed as he kept pushing his body to its limit.

His thirst to go even faster than humanly possible wasn't solely born from his desire to not miss the quidditch match. It was in his body's best interest to undergo strenuous exercise because of the concoction of potion and poison he'd consumed. Tentacula venom had more uses outside of being a neuron toxin and purple hair dye. Provided the right conditions were met, it could also be used to make certain potion's effects semi-permanent.

The quidditch Beater potion he'd consumed before the poison had one important property. It would repair any injury to a stronger state than it had been before. This potion alone would have healed and improved George's body briefly. But inevitably, the injuries would resurface as his Ironbelly form continued to grow disproportionately with his human form.

Now that the Tentacula venom had made the effects almost permanent, George's body could be in a constant state of improvement until he reached an equilibrium. As George ran, he could feel his muscles tearing and his bones cracking under the strain. However, they were healing at an even faster rate. And as time passed, the injuries were getting less severe. Once George was only a hundred yards away from the pitch, he could barely feel any discomfort.

Pain he'd never realised existed faded away, leaving George feeling more comfortable in his body than ever before. Distracted by the unbelievably pleasant sensation, he neglected to start slowing down. He tried to stop his momentum once he was only a few yards away, but the grass was wet from last night's downpour. He ended up tumbling to the ground and tearing a hole right through the Ravenclaw stand.

Even though George had fallen head-first into a wooden beam at over thirty miles an hour, he didn't feel any pain nor seemed injured. He stood back up without so much as a headache while the pillar he'd hit had splintered into pieces. The impact hadn't gone unnoticed, George heard the sound of Ravenclaw students shuffling around above him. He quickly brushed the wood shards out of his hair and climbed up to the quidditch pitch.

George tore another hole in the tarp, deliberately this time, and looked out onto the pitch. He could hear gasps from the spectators as everyone watched Harry nearly falling off his broom. The chosen one was hanging off his broom while it was desperately trying to shake him off. George kept scanning the ring of towers until he saw the one with Snape and Quirrel inside. With George's luck, it only made sense that the professors were on the opposite side of the pitch.

Since he didn't have enough time to run around, George jumped the nine-foot gap separating the audience from the pitch and landed on the grass. If any of the spectators cared to look away from the boy about to plunge to his death, they would see a weirdly-fast purple-haired boy sprinting across the pitch. Once again, George jumped across the gap on the opposite end and made his own entrance into the base of the professors' tower.

George looked up and saw a spiral case leading up to the viewing deck. Right at the top, he could see Hermione sneaking toward the benches. George decided not to bother with the rickety stairs. Instead, he jumped into the air and grabbed onto the structural beam above him. His sharp fingernails dug into the wood like butter as he threw himself up and grabbed another beam. He kept jumping from beam to beam until he reached the top.

Hermione was about to cast a spell on Snape's robes but stopped after hearing George's approach. She seemed understandably surprised to see him leapfrog over the stairs and stand before her.

"George? Is that you?", she said in a hushed voice.

George looked over at the feet of the professors, "I'm guessing you're here for the same reason as I."

He walked to where Snape was seated while rubbing his fingers together. A few sparks shot out of his fingers before a small flame appeared.

"You don't want to use a wand if you don't want to get caught", he whispered.

George pinched the tiny flame between his fingers and stuck his arm through the gap in the benches. He let go of the flame and it fell onto Snape's robes, setting them alight. George waited to see the flame take to the black robes before turning back around and pacing past Hermione towards the stairs.

"Aren't you coming?"

George looked over his shoulder and saw Hermione frozen in stupefaction.

"Well… you can stay. That's if you don't mind getting expelled", he said while pointing at the benches above them.

At the same time, George and Hermione could hear a lot of panicked footsteps and murmur. They both turned to see Snape's feet dancing around as he attempted to put out the fire. By the time Hermione turned back around, George had already begun to descend the stairs. The mere suggestion of expulsion seemed enough to motivate her to follow after him. Since he had no intention of eluding her, George unhurriedly walked down to give Hermione ample time to catch up.

"Excuse me, George? What are you doing here?"

George didn't turn around, "come on Hermione, don't play dumb. Everyone knows how to break a jinx."

"So you saw Professor Snape casting the jinx as well?"

George stopped walking down the stairs and stared perplexed at Hermione, "Professor Snape? What are you talking about?"

Hermione stopped as well and didn't look any less confused than George, "wait… Who do you think was casting the jinx?"

George chuckled derisively, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Snape does seem like the type. But no, it isn't him."

Hermione was clearly infuriated by his aloofness, "then who?"

George smiled, "how about we see if Harry is alright before we continue this conversation?"

"Oh…", Hermione paused before nodding, "yes, let's go."

They both continued to descend the tower, but that didn't stop Hermione from asking, "so… Why is your hair purple?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What about your uniform? Did you spill hair dye on yourself or something?"

"Sure, it's hair dye. Let's just leave it at that."

After an awkward silence, George and Hermione reach the bottom of the tower and were relieved to see Harry back on his broom. Not only that, but Harry was only a few feet from the ground and standing on his broom like it was a surfboard. Then he lunged forward and tumbled onto the grass. Harry appeared to be injured as he stood back up whilst clutching his stomach. After convulsing a few times, he threw up a little golden ball that landed in his hands.

The commentator announced, "he's got the Snitch! Harry Potter receives one hundred and fifty points for catching the Snitch."

Then Hooch shouted, "Gryffindor wins!"

Three-quarters of the audience burst into cheers, leaving the Slytherin students mortified at their loss. Harry held the Snitch aloft whilst the rest of his team surrounded him on their brooms. Hermione clapped and cheered like the rest of the Gryffindor students, whereas George just felt great relief. Just like October, this moment in time was necessary in cementing his connection to the trio. He'd got here by the skin of his teeth, but had managed to complete his plan just in time.

Whilst Hermione was distracted with the game celebrations, George quickly pulled out a new uniform from his enchanted sack and got undressed behind a wooden pillar. Having purple hair was one thing, but being covered in purple blood was another. If he was to return to the Dark Forest to retrieve his robes, he couldn't walk around smelling like a bleeding animal. Once he took off his shirt, he saw the wound from the branch had vanished. Now there was only a cobweb pattern of black veins bulging out of his abdomen.

Everywhere George had stabbed the Tentacula poison had a similar density of throbbing dark veins. They were far more defined than they'd been in the girl's bathroom, it didn't look healthy at all. George assumed this side effect must have been connected to the reason why every other wizard who was subjected to this dangerous 'treatment' died within ten to twenty years. His decision not to stab his head was definitely the right call or he'd look pretty demonic right now.

George quickly put on a fresh set of clothes and turned around to see Hermione staring at him. He had no idea how long she'd been standing there since the audience above them had masked the sound of her footsteps.

"What did you see, Hermione?"

Hermione stuttered, "n nothing."

"Good", responded George while buttoning up his collar, "because this isn't the time to get distracted with trivial matters."

He finished by donning his last spare robe and pulling the hood over his head. All the while, Hermione kept staring at George like she'd seen a ghost. The look of concern and fear in her eyes hadn't been unnoticed. George knew almost immediately that he'd messed up yet again. Since he'd come all this way, he might as well say what needed to be said and leave before she got spooked. George will just have to amend the script a little and leave the juicy details for another day.

He sighed before saying, "I'm guessing Harry told you about that note I gave him."

Hermione nodded.

"I meant every word I wrote", George said calmly, "and nothing has changed since."

Hermione cleared her throat before timidly stepping forward, "George… Whatever 'that' was… we could help."

George shook his head, "never mind me. This isn't my story. It's Harry you should be worried about."

He turned toward the exit of the pitch and murmured to himself, "maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. I've alluded too much and I'm getting too involved."

Then George turned back to Hermione and spoke aloud, "go to Hagrid with Harry and Ron. Pester him about what you saw today. Then you'll get more clarity on what's really going on at this castle."

"What does this have to do with Hagrid? Can't you just tell me what you know?", asked Hermione.

"Were it so easy?", whispered George under his breath.

"You'll be surprised how much the professors are keeping from us. It's their secrets that are putting the likes of Harry in unnecessary danger. Today was just a taste of what is to come. Talk to Hagrid and you'll start to understand."

George then turned to leave, but Hermione ran forward and grabbed his arm.

"How do you know so much? Aren't you just a student like us?"

George just shrugged off her weak grip and tutted, "haven't I already told you like a dozen times before?"

Hermione looked momentarily confused before her expression turned stern, "you have got to be joking? Your better not expect me to believe..."

She was cut off as George jumped off the edge of the quidditch stand. It was over a twenty-foot drop onto a cobbled path, but he hardly felt the need to bend his knees. George landed casually as if he'd simply stepped off a curb. Of course, Hermione couldn't easily follow him. She could only look over the edge whilst clinging to a wooden pillar.

George looked up at her and shouted, "believe whatever you want to believe, just don't forget what I said", before turning around and running back towards the castle.