Confrontation in the Courtyard

Harry quietly made his through the courtyard, walking the direction of the lake. It was currently November 14th, a mere three days before the Wand weighing ceremony. He was on his way to visit Hermione, who he knew was by the lakeside at the moment, thanks to the aid of the Marauder's Map.

Over the course of the past few days, Harry had begun to make himself more visible to the students of Hogwarts, occasionally walking around the school in search of Hedwig, or simply to get his mind off things. He had already been accosted by angry students five times, though none of them had yet thrown any spells at him.

The courtyard was jam packed, it was lunch time at the moment, and many had decided to eat outside, taking advantage of the last few days of relatively good weather. Harry had been hoping that the surplus of students would make it harder for anyone to notice him. Unfortunately, his luck was continuing to prove rather shoddy.

"There you are, Scarhead!" yelled Malfoy. He was resting upon a thick branch of a willow tree. Scattered around him were a few of Malfoy's posse, as well as Pansy Parkinson and her group of friends.

"My father and I have a bet, you see." called the blonde from his branch on the tree. He gently jumped down to the ground, before continuing.

"I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in this tournament. Father disagrees, of course." said Draco, "He doesn't think you'll last five!"

The Slytherins all cackled madly, before all pressing their hands to the badges that adorned their chests. Each badge was now a bright green, the phrase 'Potter Stinks!' clearly legible upon them.

Malfoy must have created those badges while I've been practicing in the chamber.

"Are we talking about the same father of yours who bribed his way out of Azkaban?" asked Harry scathingly. "Yeah, I really care about what he thinks."

"Don't say a word against my father!" yelled Malfoy. Those in the courtyard had all quieted significantly, listening with rapt attention. It was the common consensus at Hogwarts that one would be hard pressed to find something more entertaining than when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy got into a conversation.

"Funny, you seem to say a lot about mine." said Harry, before turning around and continuing on his way.

"My father is a noble pureblood, the best of the best!" roared Malfoy at Harry's retreating back.

"Don't care."

"Not going to talk like a man, Scarhead? Mummy never teach you proper manners? I suppose that makes sense . . . she was dead before you could wipe the drool off your chin."

Something inside Harry snapped. He could feel raw magic coursing through him once more, his wandless magic desperate for release, clearly sensing the angry intent within him. It made sense; wandless magic was based on his intent, which was based on his emotions, and as of right now, he was quite enraged.

Harry turned around, glaring at Draco with undisguised hatred. He had no wand in his hand at the moment; he had kept it within his robes. The theory was that if he could not see his wand, he would be less likely to curse some idiot such as Malfoy. His theory was clearly wrong.

A moment after Harry turned around, Malfoy's shirt caught on fire. The blonde screamed loudly, his voice reverberating across the silent courtyard.

Just as quickly as the flames had appeared, they had vanished. Malfoy's shirt was perfectly fine, although it was clear to all that he had felt the scorching heat of the flames.

Harry didn't stick around to see Malfoy's reaction, instead choosing to continue on his walk. He had just done something incredibly stupid, something which could potential cost him a lot, the least of which being retaliation from Malfoy's father.

He wasn't particularly worried about the trouble he might get into; he could always say that it was a simple act of accidental magic. He had, after all, not used his wand, and there were about a hundred witnesses that could confirm that.

What had actually happened had been a case of Harry's wandless magic. He had given into his anger, and used his intent to get back at Malfoy. Considering he was so far only capable of using his wandless magic in the form of two elements, he did not have many options to choose from. Harry had gone with fire in the heat of the moment, as it was much less impressive than lightning - that way he would actually have an excuse for his actions.

I'll tell Salazar about losing control of my emotions; he might be more likely to teach me Occlumency earlier.

The ancient portrait had refrained from teaching Harry the mental art, stating that if he did not truly understand and recognize his emotions, he could potentially do some serious damage to his mind. While Harry understood the point, he felt the good outweighed the bad; if he was capable of mastering Occlumency, he would be able to drastically increase his control over his magic, both normal and wandless.

Harry eventually arrived by the lakeside where he found Hermione reading a book. She idly turned the page, munching on a piece of toast.

"Hello, Hermione." said Harry, sitting down beside the bushy haired girl. She looked up from her book, her expression not revealing any emotions.

Harry had already long decided how he would be dealing with his classmates. For most of them, especially Ron, he would do nothing. If they wished to regain his friendship, they would have to come to him. Even then, he would only rekindle their bond if he still wanted it. Harry was not particularly sure whether or not he would want it anymore; he had been very happy spending time with Salazar and Hedwig, and occasionally Tonks and Hestia (before they had left, of course).

Hermione, however, was a different case. As far as he knew, she had not yet voiced her opinions on Harry's name emerging from the goblet. There was a possibility that she did not believe that he had entered his name. If that were the case, he would be the one asking for forgiveness, not the other way around.

"Hello, Harry." said Hermione, "I haven't seen you in a while, I suppose you've been staying wherever you used to vanish off to?"

"I am." replied Harry. Hermione nodded sagely, clearly having expected the given answer.

"Professor McGonagall wasn't particularly happy with your disappearance." said Hermione, "She was disappointed with us for not being there for you, and with you for leaving. I heard she's been wanting to speak with you."

Harry shrugged.

"I felt like my presence wasn't wanted, so I left."

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Hermione continuing to eat her toast. When the silence was finally broken, it was done so by Harry.

"You don't think I entered my name, do you?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm . . . not sure, really."

"And why is that?" said Harry, suppressing his sudden rush of annoyance.

"You've changed, I guess." said Hermione, "Half the time you're nowhere to be found. And when you are there, you seem less innocent, I guess. Less pure."

"My life hasn't exactly been a bright ray of sunshine, you know." said Harry.

"I know, but even then, you were always so happy and kind, so innocent . . ."

"So do you think I entered myself?" asked Harry, his anger with the situation starting to get to him.

"Like I said . . . I'm not quite sure."

Harry stood up, brushing himself off. He had gotten the answer he had been looking for, and even though it had not been the one he wanted, it was still an answer. He walked away from the lakeside at a quick pace, ignoring Hermione's calls for him to come back.

.....

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