"Oh, are you talking about Mr. Diggory's caster-glove? Yes, impressive stuff, I have to say. I can't do that for your locket, for a couple o' reasons. First, them half-carat ruby and sapphire you picked won't hold much. One spell, nothing too powerful. Diamonds are the best, o'course. Half-carat diamond could hold a few spells." Harry figured as much. Cedric's glove was studded with dozens of gems, and it only held about thirty spells.
"And the next problem is the material. The gold locket won't conduct magic. None of them metals will."
Harry was surprised. "But Cedric's glove was made of gold... or something that looked liked gold. It was definitely metal."
"Sheesh, do I look like a goblin to you, mate?" Seeing Harry's confused expression, he went on. "Only goblins know how to make metals that can channel and contain magic, Mr. Potter. I thought that was common knowledge. 's why goblin steel and jewellery is so damn valuable. None of them will share their secret with us wizards."
"I'm muggle-raised, but thanks for telling me," Harry growled. Situations like these always reminded him how his life had been completely different from what everyone always thought he was. "So if you made jewellery out of something that could channel magic... like... wood..."
"What kind of daft fool would buy a three-galleon jewel and stick it on a three-knut piece of wood? Look, a word of advice- if you're worried about how you can cast spells if you lose your wand... buy a second wand."
"Fine, fine... thanks for the tip," Harry muttered as he left. It was well after lunch by the time he got back to the castle, grabbed some lunch from the kitchens and went straight to the library.
Studying wasn't going as well as Harry had imagined. On the long walks to and from Hogsmeade, he had a lot of time to think about his talk with Hermione that morning. What did he want to do with his life? The thoughts trickled into his mind as he looked through the various books.
Look after Sirius? Harry thought as he looked through the table of contents of the upper-year potions texts. No, I just need to clear his name. That'll happen after I catch Pettigrew. He's certainly not some old senior that needs tending to.
He sighed, finding nothing of use. What the heck does an Earth-based potion mean anyways? At least that meant he was in the same boat as the others. His eyes fell on a book on magical fertilizers and potions. Maybe I can solve world hunger or something. That's rather vague. Does that mean I have to be a farmer or something? Abandoning the idea, he turned his focus back on to potions.
Once he'd realized the Trial of Earth would take only a day, if the current pattern held true, he ruled out all the potions that required more than a few hours to brew, as well as the ones whose effects weren't immediate. From this book, there were only three that fit the bill. One was a Bloom potion, which made a flower bloom immediately no matter what season it was, although it died just as quickly afterwards. Another was a simple plant maturation potion that aged a plant several weeks in a day, and the last one was a soil-softening potion, which turned subsoil into topsoil. The problem was that the first two seemed to deal more with plants than earth while the last one didn't feel like something that tested a Triwizard champion's mettle.
Is there anything I could use my fame for other than be the subject of gossip? He turned back to wondering as he put down the agriculture-potion book. I hate the way the Prophet keeps paying Skeeter for those articles. Teen Witch Weekly is almost as bad, but hopefully they'll stop when I get older. Maybe I should start my own newspaper, he concluded. The idea didn't go very far, though, as he really didn't enjoy writing articles himself, nor did he fancy being an editor. Hermione always caught mistakes in his essays when she proofread for him, anyways. He just wanted to own one, and the only reason for that was to stop all the gossip.
Harry sighed. Whatever he had decided for his future, he didn't want it to involve potions. He was sure of that much at least. He tried searching for potions that used rocks as an ingredient. Unfortunately, there wasn't a convenient tome of "rock-based potions" to pull off the shelves. He ended up picking a few out and flipping through the ingredient lists, seeing if any potions matched his criteria. Four books later and he was still empty-handed. If Hermione were here, I'd be getting this done twice as fast, he thought dejectedly. No, three times as fast. She can absorb books faster than I can skim them, he corrected himself. He left his piles of books to go to the front of the library and check the clock, hoping to see if classes were over so that he could continue the studying with Hermione. He was surprised to find that dinner had already started. Classes had ended hours ago.
He ran up to the Great Hall, where the Gryffindor table was oddly empty. An entire section of students were missing- the fourth-year students. Upon seeing him, Angelina immediately said, "Harry, I think you should go visit the Hospital Wing right now." Harry didn't wait a second as he bolted from the Great Hall.
The hospital wing contained a surprising number of Gryffindors- about half a dozen, in fact. Most of them were in coughing and in mild pain, but conscious. Hermione, however, was laying in her bed with her eyes closed. "Hermione!" he cried out as he ran to her side. Seeing no response, he asked, "What happened?" to nobody in particular.
"Her potion blew up," came the response from the next bed over. Ron was laying there with a few empty potions vials next to him. "And where were you? Funny how the moment Hermione needs help you're nowhere to be found. Some Gryffindor you are. Or did you just let it happen just because she broke up with you?"
Rumours of their relationship troubles had been greatly exaggerated, as rumours often were. He was about to retort angrily, but Neville spoke up from further down. "Oh, come off it, Ron, everyone knows it was Malfoy. Are you actually taking the Slytherins' side on this one?"
"Of course not! I'd never defend those slimy snakes!" Ron's excitement led him to a fit of coughing. "But the day after they have a spat, Harry doesn't show up and Hermione gets hurt? You keep telling me I'm jealous, but at least I was there to help her out!"
"You practically fell on top of her, coughing," snorted Seamus, on the next bed over. "I wouldn't call that helping."
"Wait, what did Malfoy do? Why are there so many of you in here?" Harry directed his question to Neville this time, hoping to get a straight answer.
"Well... nobody actually saw him do it, but he was smirking like he knew what was going on. Hermione's potion blew up, and all of us nearby caught a whiff of the stuff and we fell down coughing. Hermione caught it right in her face, though, and she just dropped to the floor. The ones who weren't helping us up ended up attacking the Slytherins. Snape gave all the Gryffindors detentions, except for us who had to go to the Hospital wing. Of course, the Slytherins get away as usual," Neville explained with a hoarse voice.
"Snape even gave detentions to the ones who were helping us," Ron spat bitterly.
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