A.N: Hello again! It's me. Just thought I'd stop by and let you guys know I'm really excited about your reaction to this history! Really, it's almost my first fanfiction and I never expected a response like that. So, thank you, you made me very happy. Now, what you have waited for, the second chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter or its characters.

Chapter Two

After both were finished, Harry and Hermione got up to head to their classes. As they pushed open the big double doors, the Boy–Who-Lived and his muggleborn best friend continued their conversation. Harry had considered, if only for a moment, the idea that he could just improvise as he had done in all his earlier adventures. But he didn't really want to do that. In all his adventures, everything had happened in a rush and he never thought things through. He ran in instinctively, only thinking about his goal. And all those times, he felt the panic, the doubt. How the bloody hell was he supposed to do it? He had no idea what to do! He was going to get himself killed!

He couldn't just walk into stuff like that again. One day, his luck would end and he would have to face things by himself. He knew that. He knew he needed to know how to survive. So, he'd learn to take care of himself. And he had to have a game plan.

They'd already established he was going to train. But how would that go? What kind of training would he do? Where would he do it? When would he do it? He turned to look at Hermione as she rambled about schedules and planning.

His book-loving friend had grown since First Year. She stood just a few inches shorter than him, as she walked beside him. Her once bushy hair, he noticed, was slowly turning wavy over the years. Her caramel-colored locks fell to her back, just past her shoulders, and they bounced a little with every step she took. She fiddled with her red and gold tie as she talked, loosing it a little, then letting it fall back to her perfectly buttoned white shirt. Her black robes brushed her knee-length gray skirt as she walked. Harry noticed for the first time his friend had long, slightly tanned legs. Really nice legs. He blushed at the thought and turned his head away quickly. Why is he thinking about Hermione like that? She is just a friend! He didn't like her like that! Or did he?

- Harry? Are you listening to me?

He forced himself to look back at her face, hoping his blush wasn't noticeable. Hermione was looking at him, her chocolate-brown eyes reprimanding him even as they showed a bit of concern. Her eyebrows were scrunched up in a frown and her slightly heart-shaped face was tilted to the side. Harry caught himself looking at her pink, pursued lips and he wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Wait, what? He quickly shifted his gaze to the floor, blushing once again.

- Yeah, Hermione, you were talking about... Um... Making plans?

- Yes... – She said, a bit of confusion in her voice. – I asked you if you knew a place you could train in, where you wouldn't get caught by Filch, or the professors...

- Or Peeves.

- Yeah. Do you know anywhere?

- No. But I could look it up in the Marauder's Map. I could use my dad's cloak to sneak out at night and find a place.

- Harry!

- What? Do you have a better idea? I can't do it during the day, because we have classes, so unless you still have your Time Turner, it's the only way.

She sighed, but nodded. She turned the corridor, only to bump into someone. Harry managed to get her before she fell back. He looked up, ready to admonish the newcomer, only to freeze. Standing there, looking at them, was none other than Ron Weasley.

Harry remembered the talk he'd had with the youngest Weasley boy the night before. After he'd climbed to his dorm, in dire need of rest, he had found the redhead. 'He is angry' was the first thing that went through Harry's head. His face had been an angry red that almost blended with his hair. Ron had almost shouted, accusing him of being a liar, a horrible friend, and saying how he should've at least had the decency to tell his best mate how to put his name in the Goblet too. He hadn't even listened as Harry tried to tell him he hadn't done any of those things, as he ranted about the Boy-Who-Lived's need to always be in the spotlight. That had started the shouting. In the end, the redhead had huffed, his face almost purple with rage, and shut his curtains closed. Harry had fell into his bed then, his lips in a thin line and his emerald eyes darkened with anger, enraged at the world and all the people in it that didn't believe him. So saying the two were in bad terms was a massive understatement.

Now, Ron didn't look like his head was about to explode. Only once he realized who he had bumped into did his face begin to redden. He looked from Harry to Hermione, and then he glared at them.

- Watch where you're going! – He snapped as he walked past them.

The two other members of the Golden Trio exchanged glances. Hermione got to her feet and looked at Harry sympathetically. When she was about to say something, he turned his head and started to walk ahead of her. He heard her sigh before she fell into step with him.

*LINEBREAK*

Harry was in his Common Room, sitting on the couch and glaring at parchments and books displayed before him. He groaned as he rubbed his face. The day's classes were over, but it was too much to ask that he wouldn't have to do anything else but pay attention to his classes. Bloody homework, he thought. Stupid ghost should be exorcised, not "teaching". He sighed and grabbed his quill again.

He had just started writing his essay when Hermione came through the portrait of the Fat Lady, almost bouncing with excitement, a bright smile on her face. Harry smiled at her. She looks cute, he thought. No, stop thinking about her like that! It seemed his friend didn't notice his internal struggle as she rushed to him.

- Harry! I have to show you something!

- I'm doing my History of Magic essay... – He said weakly.

- You can finish it later, come on! – She pulled him up by his hand.

- Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger? – The girl rolled her eyes.

- Honestly, Harry... Just come with me.

She led him past the portrait of the Fat Lady, and through the castle's corridors, occasionally tugging his hand and urging him forward. They entered the library. It was occupied by few students, and was deadly quiet.

- What is it you're so excited about? – Harry whispered, quirking an eyebrow.

In response, she led him behind another aisle and picked a book from the shelf. It read "The History of the Triwizard Tournaments".

- After classes, - she started, whispering – I thought I'd stop by the library and try to find all I could about the tournament. So I came here, to the historical events section, and I found this!

- Okay...

- I think knowing what happened in the past tournaments might help us figure out what kind of challenges you'll be facing.

- That makes sense.

- Of course it makes sense, Harry. – She joked, rolling her eyes.

Harry chuckled and it earned him a glare from the librarian. He stopped and sat with Hermione in a table nearby to look at the book.

*LINEBREAK*

That night, after all the boys in his dorm were asleep, Harry grabbed his Invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map off his trunk and sneaked out of Gryffindor Tower. He checked his map to see no one wandering around the corridors next to him, and he started his search for a secluded and abandoned place in the castle big enough for him to practice. He decided to start in the upper levels, making his way down as he went. Truth be told, even with the Map, Harry wanted to avoid the dungeons and the greasy-haired Potions Master for as long as he could.

After checking the two upper floors, Harry was dead on his feet. He dragged himself through the corridors, his eyelids heavy. He decided to head back to his dormitory for some much-needed rest. He was in the seventh floor, slowly making his way to Gryffindor Tower. I need a bed, he thought. I need a bed, I need a bed, I need a bed.

And suddenly, to his right, a door appeared.