Prologue

Rumor Has It

With the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, it was a wonder that anything else could be thought of. Yet, a rumor had spread quickly and everyone's ears perked up at the sound, like hounds to a scent.

"It's like a guest teacher," Ron said, munching on a loaf of bread and butter.

"It's not just a guest teacher, Ron," Hermione shook her head, her brown rivulets flowing down her shoulders and shaking with the gesture, "From what I heard he's the most powerful, the wisest, and the most peculiar wizard who ever lived and who ever will live."

"I thought Dumbledore was the most powerful." Ron returned.

Harry watched the two, his eyes resting on Hermione and pressing her to continue. Around them the students clattered with plates and silverware, chattering about this and that, mostly nothing about current events and almost all about teenage gossip. Harry picked at the meat on his plate and set the fork down, resting his elbows on the table and watching Hermione. Hermione was chewing and looked back at Harry, expecting him to speak.

"If he's so powerful why didn't he just off Voldemort?" Harry asked. He wondered. Perhaps if this so-called all powerful man just destroyed Voldemort then he might have his parents still.

Ron winced at the name, and Hermione did as well, lowering her gaze so her short eyelashes fanned out along her cheeks.

"Perhaps he had his own reasons," Hermione said.

"What d'you know about him?" Ron continued.

"The man goes by different names, but I didn't learn about any of them except a rather normal, rather muggle name: Arthur Kirkland. I couldn't find out his age and anything about him except that those he duels don't suffer but it's almost like they've battled a legend, or so. He's very skilled and does not seem to like killing people. I couldn't determine much about him because the text books say next to nothing on him except for a poor mentioning in the sidelines, almost like they're afraid to say something or they can't. What's more, I doubt he'd be coming here. He'd probably want to deal with greater matters than teach at a school."

Harry agreed.

Ron huffed, leaning back. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see if he does show up."

"Meanwhile," Hermione stood, gathering her things, "I'll try to find more information. Who knows, maybe he could help you Harry. Maybe he could clear things with him." She referred to Harry's godfather: Sirius.

The prospect gleamed in Harry's eyes.

Before Harry could state his opinion, Hermione had already been swallowed by the crowd. Her brown head bobbed in the wave of others, and then vanished into the library.

"So he's like a Merlin, then?" Ron said.

Harry shrugged.

"I think that Fred and George are going to use some potion to enter their name…" Ron launched into his brother's endeavors and the upcoming tournament. Harry's spirits rose and he listened in with greater interest, any prior woes tucked away for a later time.

During this time, Harry took several glances at the head table. The teacher sat, watching the crowd as they ate their dinner, and chatted amongst each other. Moody glowered across the room, his eye revolving and spinning like a planet lost from orbit, and landing on Harry more than enough times. As he did, his jowls quivered. He placed his hand on the table and with the other scratched at his missing chunk of nose, a dusty color. At the centre Dumbledore, his beard long and white as sea foam glistening in the golden lights of candles also found his gaze wandering towards Harry. The other teachers didn't seem to care and continued on. Snape, resembling a crow with half his feather disheveled and his voice coarse of yells ate quietly, examining the Slytherin table.

Did they know of the visitor? Or was it a vague rumor formed by the students in the havoc? Hermione had mentioned such a man existed, but in such a fragmentary haze that he may as well be an urban legend. He may as well still live in a time when the country was ruled by towering green pines and the people in stone houses forged off it, having adventures through the dense forest and drinking from the running brooks.

"Are you listening?" Ron said.

Harry looked back at him, blinking, and nodding. He adjusted his glasses although they weren't in need of such an auxiliary motion. Overhead the moon hung like a disk of gold.

"I think I'll go to bed. I'll fall asleep in my plate." Harry left the seat and Ron followed. They walked back to their rooms, yawning occasionally and passing other students. Their robes swished at their feet and the stairs shifted, grinding like old stones passed together.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night."

I do not own Harry Potter nor Hetalia

I hope you enjoy.