When Harry woke up after his first official after-war drinking binge, he was sitting at a table with bright lights shining around him and waves of
conversation buzzing around him like angry hornets. This was unusual, because Harry had never woken up sitting before. His thoughts were scrambled and the bright lights and loud noises were causing his vision to blur. He felt like he had just taken a bludger to the head. Where could he be? It felt like Hogwarts, but it was still being reconstructed after the Final Battle. The last thing that Harry could remember was going to bed completely drunk from Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Squinting, Harry tried to figure out were he was, but his vision was still blurry and all that he could see was swirling shapes and black spots. The noise reached a crescendo as he was ripped out of his thought by a familiar voice.
"Are you alright, Harry? You look a bit sick," said Ron Weasley.
This was strange, since Harry had not seen Ron since he went to Australia with Hermione to find Hermione's parents. This was also strange because Ron's voice sounded higher than usual and Harry still didn't know where he was.
Suddenly, everything snapped into focus. He was in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, sitting at the Gryffindor next to Ron and across from Hermione and Neville. Except how did he get there? And why did everybody look so different? His friends looked younger, and happier even. Like they hadn't recently seen their friends, classmates and family brutally murdered. This was strange. And now they were looking at him anxiously because he was sitting there gaping at them rather than answering Ron's question.
Harry laughed weakly and croaked out a "fine" while looking around the Great Hall frantically, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Everyone was looking at the High Table, where someone was speaking. And it was a very familiar someone; Albus Dumbledore was standing at the center, his deep green robes glowing in the candlelight. Harry felt a lump swell in his throat. He had never quite gotten over the death of his beloved headmaster and to see him now was almost too much. Was Harry dead? That was unlikely, since last time he died he was at King's Cross, not the Great Hall. And he highly doubted that Neville, Ron, and Hemione also died on the same night that he did. But what other explanation was there? This did not feel like a dream or a vision. Harry pinched himself to make sure.
Dumbledore had been speaking. He continued, " An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
This snapped Harry out of his reverie. The Triwizard Tournament? He quickly leapt up from his seat and shouted, "What the bloody hell is going on? Am I dead? And if so, why are people still trying to kill me, even in death?"
Perhaps if Harry hadn't been so preoccupied with panic and confusion, he would have noticed every single person in the Great Hall staring at him as if he was mad. A few Slytherins were snickering and Harry's friends in Gryffindor looked worried for his mental health. Never has shocked silence sounded so loud.
"Mr. Potter, are you quite alright? I can assure you that you are very much alive, and I can also assure you nobody is trying to kill you at the moment," Dumbledore informed, looking quite troubled.
"Just like nobody tried to kill me in my first year? And my second? And my third? And every single year afterward?" Harry scoffed.
"Every single year afterward? You are in your fourth year Mr. Potter, now what are you on about?" Professor McGonagall asked in a scolding voice.
"Er - well ... I'm actually ... " Harry realized that there was no way to explain that he was actually an eighteen year old trapped in his fourth year body and about to relive a deadly and unnecessary tournament for the second time without sounding crazy. But maybe there was a way to change things? He remembered Hermione telling him that bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time, but he wasn't certain this was his time. That is - this could be a different universe, since in the last one, he didn't remember having his body taken over by a future version of himself. Having decided that his desire to not relive his disastrous fourth year outweighed any caution he may have, Harry knew he had to act quickly. Most of the problems that plagued this year had been caused by Barty Crouch Jr., who was now at the High Table disguised as Mad-Eye Moody.
With this in mind, Harry slowly said, " There is currently someone in the Great Hall who is out to ruin the Triwizard Tournament and he is using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Professor Moody."
Incredulous whispers broke out in the Great Hall as the pretend Moody laughed nervously and said, "Lies. Lies from a delusional attention seeking boy. Albus, you can't possibly believe this."
Dumbledore took hold of his wand and looked at the pretend Moody with an almost genial expression and asked, "In the summer of 1968, who was it that accidentally removed their own buttocks after keeping their wand in their back pocket?"
Pretend Moody suddenly whipped out his wand, but it was too late, for Dumbledore had wordlessly cast a spell that looked like a Full Body-Bind Curse. The chatter in the Great Hall had died down and everyone was either staring at the petrified fake Moody or looking at Harry in admiration. Hermione and Ron were looking at Harry too, but it was a questioning glance rather than an admiring one. Harry wondered how he would explain his way out of this one. Maybe tampering with the supposed past was not such a good idea after all.
"Professor McGonagall will give the rest of the details about the Tournament and then she will order all students to go to their respective dormitories. Mr. Potter, please come with me," said Dumbledore as he levitated the fake Moody and made his way to his office, presumably to question the impostor and to call the aurors.
As Harry started to follow him, Hermione grabbed his arm and looked imploringly at him.
"Harry please, what is going on?" she asked.
"I can't tell you right now," said Harry quietly. "But I promise to at least try explain when I get back from Dumbledore's office."
He Before he left the Great Hall, he looked around at all of his classmates. They all looked so young and alive. Harry realized that as they chattered about what just transpired and stared at Harry in wonder or confusion, they did not know of the tragedy that would befall their lives and their school. They did not know that soon, many would see their friends and peers die and their school destroyed by battle. With this startling thought in mind, Harry vowed that he would prevent such horrors from affecting Hogwarts. Scanning the room, he saw Colin Creevy, Fred Weasley, Severus Snape, Charity Burbage and many others, all alive. Dumbldore, Lupin, Tonks and Sirius were all alive too. Sirius! Harry could now prevent his untimely death and actually spend time with his beloved godfather. He could even prevent Snape's death, though Harry supposed that the git probably wouldn't even be grateful. He could save the Wizarding World from near destruction and save the lives of his friends. They were all still alive. But so was Voldemort and Wormtail and the Lestranges. Bugger.
As McGonagall called the students to attention, Harry looked around the room once more and saw someone whose death he forgot about. Cedric Diggory was supposed to die in a few months, but right now he was sitting at the Hufflepuff table, looking as handsome as ever. Remembering Cedric's blank gaze after Wormtail's killing curse, Harry vowed that Cedric would not be the first casualty in the Second Wizarding War. Cedric Diggory would survive, perhaps become the Triwizard champion and then go on to work at the ministry like his father and maybe marry Cho Chang. And with that, Harry left the Great Hall and started walking to Dumbledore's office.