I Know You Know I Know You Know

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Harry leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes narrowing in focus as he listened to the explanation. The history of runes had always fascinated him, but it was the way Professor Babbling described it that really brought it to life. The way she spoke about magic made it sound not just like an ancient art but something that had power, something alive, waiting to be tapped into.

Professor Babbling continued, her voice growing more animated, clearly passionate about the subject. "These runes were more than just symbols etched into weapons or ships. They were part of their very identity—their way of ensuring victory. The magic wasn't just in the runes themselves but in the belief that these symbols could shape the course of their raids. And as we know, belief in magic is often just as powerful as the magic itself."

The class, even those who had been previously disinterested, now leaned forward, caught up in her explanation. "The thing to remember," Professor Babbling said, her tone growing more serious, "is that runes are like building blocks. One rune might represent strength, but when combined with another, it could mean destruction, or resilience, or power drawn from chaos. It all depends on how you use them, what intention you set behind the magic."

She picked up another rune from her desk, holding it out for the class to see. "This is Berkano. It represents new beginnings, growth, and healing. It's often used in spells for protection or renewal." She glanced around the room, making sure everyone was paying attention before she continued. "Now, if we combine Berkano with Thurisaz, it would drastically change the meaning. Instead of simple healing, we could be invoking a more forceful kind of protection, perhaps even aggressive regeneration after a battle or conflict."

The rune made its way around the class, and when it reached Harry, he studied it closely, noting the faint hum of magic within the stone. Runes weren't like wands or spells, but their magic was undeniably present, waiting for the right intention to activate it.

Professor Babbling placed the rune back on her desk and turned to the class, smiling. "Runes are incredibly versatile. They can be used for everything from creating wards and barriers to enhancing spells or even crafting enchanted objects. But remember, the key to using runes effectively is understanding the balance between them. One misplaced rune in a sequence, and your protective ward might turn into a curse."

Babbling walked back to the chalkboard, her chalk tapping lightly against the surface as she wrote out a sequence of runes. "This is a common protection sequence," she explained. "When used correctly, it can shield a location from intruders, repel dark creatures, and prevent hexes from penetrating the area. However, if you switch just one of these runes, the entire meaning changes. Instead of a peaceful ward, you might find yourself with an aggressive defense that harms anyone who steps inside, including yourself."

The class exchanged uneasy glances, realizing just how precise one had to be when working with runes.

"And that's why rune magic is not something to take lightly," Babbling continued, her tone now more cautionary. "It's a delicate art, one that requires patience and a clear understanding of what each rune represents, both on its own and in combination with others."

As she finished her explanation, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson. The students began to pack up their things, some still scribbling down last-minute notes. Harry stood up, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

Tracey stared at him, "You already studied way ahead of the curriculum, haven't you?"

Harry chuckled, "I dabbled a bit. Can't say I am way ahead, but I am definetely ahead of you."

Tracey poked his side, "Always the humble."

Harry nodded with an exaggerated flair, his smirk widening. "True. One of the many qualities that make me so perfect is my modesty."

Daphne rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress the grin tugging at her lips. "Right, because that's exactly what I think of when I think of you—modesty."

"Obviously," Tracey chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Next thing you'll tell us is that you don't even enjoy showing off."

Harry tilted his head as if considering it. "Show off? Who, me? I'd never."

Daphne snorted. "You literally challenged Draco to duel everyone in Duelling Club last week just to 'test a theory.'"

Harry waved it off. "That was purely scientific. For research purposes. You should know, Daphne."

"Sure, research," Daphne replied dryly. "And I suppose knocking him on his arse was just part of the experiment?"

"Absolutely. Very educational for everyone involved," Harry said, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Tracey shook her head, laughing. "Educational. That's what we're calling it now? Well, as long as you're enriching our minds, Potter."

"Happy to help," Harry said, still grinning.

The week after the Runes class went by in a blur. Between sneaking off to the Chamber of Secrets to go over Slytherin's ancient knowledge with Basi and keeping up with his studies, Harry still managed to find time for something a bit more entertaining—pranking Hermione.

It started small, with Harry "forgetting" something important or putting things in strange places around Hermione. Maybe her ink bottle was upside down, or her notes mysteriously rearranged themselves while she wasn't looking. She would show up to the library only to find Harry already there, feigning innocence, asking what took her so long. It was harmless fun, and watching Hermione grow increasingly suspicious was its own reward.

As the days passed, he got bolder. His favorite trick was watching Hermione pop in and out of classes using her Time-Turner. She'd slip into a chair as if she'd been there all along, only to find Harry sitting right next to her, a knowing smirk on his face. The feather trick in Runes was just the beginning.

By the second week, Hermione's suspicions were obvious. She'd glare at Harry during meals or when they crossed paths in the corridors. Her eyes would narrow, and her lips would press into that thin line she always wore when she was on the edge of figuring something out. But she never said anything—yet.

Harry kept at it, making sure to appear in places he shouldn't be, sneaking up behind her in classes, or just sitting in her usual library spot before she could get there, offering her a seat with a grin. "Timing is everything, Hermione," he'd say, a little too innocently, just to watch her twitch.

It took her three full weeks of these little stunts before she finally confronted him. By then, she'd spent far too long trying to convince herself that she was imagining things. But that morning, as Harry had somehow managed to be sitting outside the Charms classroom five minutes before she was even supposed to arrive, it was too much.

"You know, don't you?" she asked, her voice sharp, but quiet enough that no one else would hear. Her squint made it clear she was no longer amused.

Harry, who had been lazily twirling his wand between his fingers, glanced up with an innocent smile. "Know what?" he asked, his tone light, as if he had no idea what she was getting at.

Hermione crossed her arms, clearly not buying his act. "Don't play dumb, Harry. You've been turning up where you shouldn't be for weeks. You're doing this on purpose."

Harry leaned back in his chair, pretending to think. He made a little twirling motion with his fingers, mimicking the act of winding a Time-Turner, and said, "Turning up where I shouldn't be? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hermione glared at him, her frustration evident. "You're tracking me with your stupid Map, aren't you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed. She was sharper than most, but he wasn't about to admit anything. "The Map? Hermione, I wouldn't need that to keep an eye on you. You're not exactly subtle."

Her eyes narrowed further. "This isn't funny, Harry. You've been messing with me for weeks. How else could you possibly know where I'd be?"

Harry smirked, letting the silence hang for a moment before shrugging. "Maybe I just have good instincts. Or maybe," he added, leaning in slightly, "you're just predictable."

Hermione huffed, clearly frustrated that she wasn't getting a straight answer. "You're impossible."

Harry grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but at that moment, Professor Flitwick stepped into the corridor, signaling that it was time for class. She shot Harry one last glare before turning and marching inside, her bag thumping against her side with each step.

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