AN: Would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to follow, favourite and review this story. Having never submitted work and seeing what I hope is a decent sized positive response to it has felt amazing, and once more I thank you.
Again, I apologise for any mistakes that may be present in this chapter, as it was also written very late and as I don't have a beta I am bound to miss them, so bear with me and I'll fix them.
If you could review, to tell me how to improve, if you liked it, what you would like to see e.t.c that'd be appreciated, as it will make this a more enjoyable read for everyone.
Harry awoke to the nauseating smell of disinfectant, having travelled to the hospital wing late in the night to avoid any unwanted grief to visit Madam Pomfrey. She of course had been at first wary of visitors at the late hour, but having seen the state that Harry had found himself in again she was quick to go about curing him. How he had gotten those wounds made her wonder, but Harry had held steadfast in remaining silent as to how he his injuries were bestowed upon him. The fact that Harry had for once pleaded to stay in the Hospital Wing overnight had only served to baffle the elderly matron, as Harry was known to be stubborn and reluctant to spend any time in the hospital wing that was more than necessary.
Having used a quick 'episkey' spell to repair the fractured nose, she had proceeded to clean the blood off of his face and start examining the scratch-like wounds around it-courtesy of the cutting jinxes. Having looked at the state of his uniform (which had been shredded slightly due to said assault) she had then moved on to examining his upper body.
Madam Pomfrey had always considered herself to be fairly immune to gruesome sights, having worked in a magical school where students could learn very dark magic if they perused certain sections of the library, but she still had to always sit down after seeing the damage that the fourteen year old Harry's body had been through.
Scars and mementoes of his various escapades that he had suffered through in his short life were scattered across his lean body. His right arm in particular carried a rather large circular scar that was the size of his forearm and looked as though an animal had pierced his skin when trying to bite him. After hearing of his heroic deed down in the once fabled 'Chamber of Secrets' she had learnt that the animal in question hadn't been your average domestic pet. Instead it happened to be a very large, very deadly Basilisk. How the then 12 year old Harry had survived the Basilisk venom injection still bemused Poppy to this day.
When she had moved on to his upper body, she had to gasp at the sheer number of gashes along his torso and his back. Poppy suspected that Harry had been assaulted by various members of the school, but as he remained stoic and silent during the examination she could only guess as to what had occurred.
The elderly matron had proceeded to clean the wounds and repair the damage caused, before issuing Harry a bed to sleep in overnight. She herself went to sleep, hoping that Harry wouldn't have the need to return to her tender care anytime soon.
How wrong she would turn out to be.
Harry himself awoke to the feeling of numbness. His sleep had been an unpleasant one, plagued by visions of his housemates' resentful faces as well as Voldemort's hateful glare. He had slept restlessly, tossing and turning about in his sheets, having even woken up once in the dead of the night with his face drenched with sweat. Having gathered his bearings, Harry had then got dressed again, thanked Madam Pomfrey and then began the dreaded return to Gryffindor tower.
Thankfully Harry seemed to have awoken fairly early if the lack of students around the castle was an indication of the time. This of course suited Harry- he didn't have to want any repeats of last night happening again.
'Then again,' he mused, 'perhaps now that they've all had the chance for it to blow over they will come to their senses and realise that I never put my name in that godforsaken cup.'
Having spent the journey to the tower contemplating random scenarios of how various interactions with his fellow housemates could go, Harry was slightly surprised to realise he had arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Giving the password to a reluctant portrait, Harry came to a halt. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he entered the common room.
Scanning the room for any early risers and finding none, Harry let out a breath of air he hadn't realised he had been holding. Collecting himself once more he made his way across the common room and up the stairs leading to his dormitory.
Sneaking into the 4th year's boy's dorm, Harry was thanking whatever deity existed for the fact his fellow dorm mates were still slumbering. Gathering his equipment for the day including his toiletries, Harry had then showered and got dressed for the day that would follow. Returning to his trunk Harry put away his toiletries and contemplated what to take from it alongside his school stuff.
'They don't trust you, so don't even think about trusting them,' the voice in his head murmured once more, 'take your broom, the map, your cloak and the photo diary of your parents.'
Agreeing once more with his head, Harry placed the recovered diary, the marauders map, his broom and his father's cloak under his arm, and locked his trunk with a simple locking spell, beginning to regret not paying attention in Charms when they were discussing useful privacy spells. Hoisting his school bag onto his shoulders, he then went in search of a place to hide his belongings from the jealous denizens residing in the fourth year boy's dorm.
Hoping to have been quick enough to escape interacting with any early rising Gryffindor's he traversed back down the stairs. Of course his luck had to run out eventually (Harry was honestly surprised it had lasted so long this morning anyway) as standing before him were two identical sets of red hair.
'Well…fuck.'
"Look Fred, it's the fourth champion of the Triwizard tournament."
"Kind of defeats the purpose of it being called 'Tri' if there's four champions doesn't it"
"That it does, but how did our illustrious boy-who-says-he-didn't-enter enter such a prestigious tournament illegally when we ourselves couldn't?"
"Maybe we're losing our touch old boy."
"Blasphemy George! Us losing our touch? That's like saying Ron's finally managed to land himself a girlfriend."
"Oh come on now. Ron getting a girlfriend? Please, like he'll ever get a…"
By this stage Harry was not only wary of the two notorious redheads, but also completely confused as to how the subject of Harry being made a reluctant fourth champion escalated into a conversation about Ron's lack of a sex life. Then again, this was a school that had possessed teachers, a deadly snake that could kill with a direct look and a horde of soul sucking dementors present in the three years that he had been a part of it. Two barking mad twins really shouldn't have surprised him by now.
Slightly irritated and anxious, Harry interrupted them: "What do you want?"
The two stopped their conversation and glanced at each other, then back to Harry again.
"Listen Harry, about this whole tournament which you said you didn't enter-"began one.
"-Which we honestly believe-"interrupted the other.
"You've got to understand that we," the one on the right gestured between the two twins, "can no longer associate with the likes of you," a gesture to Harry, "anymore."
"No hard feelings?" the one on left finished.
Harry felt cold. Even the two twins, who Harry had always gotten along with (even played a few pranks with) were abandoning him. Even when they believed him!
"Why? But you guys even said you believe me so why?" he asked dejectedly. Once more the two shared a glance.
"Because, Harry," they began seriously, "we don't want to be ostracised by our fellow housemates by being the only ones who believe you."
"Also," the one on the left said, "this year we have our eyes on Angelina and Alicia, and well, you see…" he trailed off.
"Let me guess, they too are jealous and believe that I entered myself?" Harry spat out with venom in his tone.
"I don't think it's they believe you to be a glory-seeker Harry-"the one on the right started.
"-It's just," the left one continued, "Angelina was hoping to be made champion and to see you be made a champion over her is hard for her to swallow. I'm sure she'll get over it soon, but until then we can't be seen socialising, our fellow teammate."
"Speaking of teammates, sorry mate,it was a unanimous decision by the majority of the house but you're off the Quidditch team."
"Sorry about that" they finished together.
Harry felt ice cold in his veins. Even his former teammates had given up on him!
"They can't do that!" he argued back.
"I'm afraid they already have mate." They said in sync.
"What about Katie? Does she hate me too?" he asked, fearing the answer.
"Surprisingly enough she's threatened to quit the team."
'Well at least there's that I suppose' he mused.
"Yeah, she felt that we were all being unfair on you and has decided to put herself at risk of being an outcast to the house mate."
"Tell her I said thank you," Harry said venomously, "at least someone is loyal and knows me well enough" he said with righteous fury seeping into his tone and shining in his gaze.
"Hey, if you wanted loyalty you should'a been a 'Puff mate."
Having had enough, Harry rudely made his way past the two Weasley twins and out into the seventh floor corridor. No direction was in mind, just the primal need to escape from the ungrateful pricks in Gryffindor tower. His mind was clouded over with hate towards his housemates for abandoning him, hate for the school for always being a death trap for him and especially hate for the bastard who drafted the concept for having a tournament for kids to risk certain death just for amusement.
Soon finding himself lost, Harry was about to pull out his map when a bizarre tapestry caught his eye. The tapestry depicted a wizard trying to teach trolls the movements to a ballet routine. The horrific sight of trolls in tutus was so distracting that Harry missed the sound of a person approaching behind him.
"Odd, isn't it? Those trolls could never possess the grace needed for ballet" the person behind him suddenly spoke, catching the already twitchy Harry off guard. Turning, he raised his wand from inside his pocket and aimed at the person who had interrupted his ogling of the tapestry, wary of the motives for approaching him.
It wasn't the fact that the person that approached wasn't looking outright hostile towards him, despite the fact they had a wand aimed between their eyes that surprised him most.
It wasn't the fact this person happened to be a girl.
It was the silver and grey snake badge adorning her robes.
AN: I'm caught between who I want this mysterious Slytherin girl to be, so if you could leave some suggestions as to who it should be that'd be appreciated. I'm honestly leaning more towards the likes of Pansy Parkinson, as I feel she's a character that is never used by authors and could have a lot of fun developing her as a character, but if people would prefer someone else please tell me. Thanks.