My apologies for the wait. Had to plan out the plot properly before I started dishing out chapters. And many thanks for your positive feedback to my story, it means a lot to me. Please continue doing so, for the sake of an aspiring author.

It makes my day.

Regards,

Karldin.

CHAPTER 7

"We have no part in zis…zis aberration. Isabelle is not so dishonourable as to enter zis tournament in such a way. I demand zat you withdraw your outrageous accusations against my student!" snarled Madame Maxime, glaring at all the assembled teachers and officials. Krum was also staring hard at Isabelle, but the blonde haired beauty did not look at anyone but Harry.

Harry himself stared straight back at his estranged sister, evaluating and considering. There was no reason for her to simply enter the tournament to keep an eye on him. She could do that much better without the constraints of the tournament, really. That could mean one of two things: She either had another reason, or she was being forced to enter. Either way, this worked to his advantage; one way or another he would test his Sharingan against the best competition around.

"Well, and …how do you propose we handle this predicament? Beauxbatons will get two bites of the apple and that is most unfair! This is not to mention an underage wizard of Hogwarts forcing his way into the competition…Dumbledore can't keep his students in line. Durmstrang is truly undermined in this competition; we will not be participating in the next!"

Harry watched the man in contempt; he was obviously an opportunist of the worst kind. He watched as Bagman stepped up to answer, but his attention was focused solely on Crouch. His magic seemed weaker than before, than when he had seen it in the forest of the world cup. Sharingan picked up a trace of wrongness in the man's magic…Harry wondered. This anomaly was not something he could identify right away, it was too subtle.

"Karkaroff, the goblet does not reignite till the next tournament so that avenue is closed to us. I am afraid that the rules are clear: those chosen by the goblet are to compete. No exceptions, right Barty?" asked Ludo.

"The rules are clear" said Crouch listlessly, drawing Harry's attention once more. Dumbledore spoke up for the first time, looking at Harry.

"Harry, did you enter the tournament despite the rules we have enforced?"

Harry snorted. "Yes I entered the tournament. No one has more right to be there than me, I fooled both the Goblet and you lot. That should speak enough about my talent, I believe."

"Ze arrogance of ze boy is astounding!" exclaimed Maxime. Harry did not even look at her, instead studiously examining his wand. Though Maxime was formidable, she was not worthy of his notice. She was not a force to be reckoned with. He saw Fleur glaring at him, and Isabelle staring at him blankly. Krum was looking at him with a faint hint of respect.

"I believe, Madam, that you should look to your own faults before you point at my apprentice. Your student is not exactly the paragon of virtuous play here, is she?" asked Snape sarcastically. Maxime's hand slowly inched toward her wand, as did Snape's. Harry knew that would be quite a close duel, but he knew Snape held the slight advantage. Sharingan told him so.

"Enough!" said Dumbledore firmly, diverting attention towards him. "We will resolve the issues of entry later. It is clear nothing can be done now, not once the contract is initiated. Now, please…let us get to the purpose of this meeting. Barty?"

"Ah, yes. The tournament will be comprised of three tasks: The first is designed to test your daring and thinking in the face of imminent danger. It will happen in exactly three weeks' time from now. Please ready yourselves as necessary. That is all", he said and left the room abruptly. Karkaroff and Krum followed suit, both of them turning on their heel to storm off towards their ships.

"Harry, I want you to stay behind. I wish to speak with you privately" said Dumbledore as Fleur and Isabelle left, the latter giving Harry one last searching look before leaving with her friend and headmistress. Harry's eyes immediately morphed to the eternal Mangekyo, ready to take Dumbledore down at a moment's notice.

"What is it you want, Headmaster? I will guide my apprentice as I deem fit. I am sure you have nothing worthwhile to say to him" said Snape silkily. Dumbledore steeped his fingers, staring right into Harry's eyes. Dumbledore's bright blue eyes that had often made him feel as if he were being X-rayed, made him feel nothing now.

"Do you think your Legilimency can work against these eyes, Dumbledore? I will drown you if you delve too deep in my mind, old man. It is done, I am in the tournament. There is nothing you can do to change it" said Harry, keeping magic ready. Dumbledore sighed, looking away.

"You should not have forced your way in, Harry. I do not see why you fail to see now what you have seen all along. When you faced the Basilisk, you sacrificed yourself for us. Same with the Philosopher's Stone! It saddens me to see your nobility lost so easily, Harry."

Harry looked at Snape, who nodded. Together the two of them made their way outside the chamber, not caring what Dumbledore said. But Harry heard, all right.

"You will learn what a mistake you have made tonight, Harry. I will teach you…be very ready for the tasks."

…..

"Well done, Potter. Well done indeed. Your analysis of the Goblet's vulnerability was impeccable and what I would expect of an apprentice of mine. But still, you face serious opponents. We will have to intensify your training; your Sharingan must be your last resort. We cannot have you becoming too dependent on those eyes of yours, now can we?" asked Snape.

They walked down the torch lit corridors of Hogwarts side by side by side, master and apprentice. Harry could not help but wonder about Dumbledore, the old man did not really try very hard to keep him out of the tournament.

Webs of intrigue everywhere, not caring what or who they ensnare. My Sharingan cannot see through everything, and I must be careful. The DoM, Dumbledore, my 'parents' and if the prophecies are right, Voldemort.

"Alright, Professor. Do I continue my studies on the apparition theories?" asked Harry, weaving a privacy spell with a single thought. With so many parties interested in him, and not benevolently, he took precautions where he could. Snape's expression turned into one of deep thought.

"I believe…I believe those studies can take a backseat as of now, . The Triwizard Tournament is no laughing matter, though you have done a laudable job of getting yourself in. You need instruction for the coming tasks; for you can be sure there will be some sort of conflict involved. The knowledge you have imbibed through the books I recommended should see you through anything else. What do you think is the most powerful type of magic?"

Harry thought deeply. It was reasonable to assume that the most powerful wizards used such magics, and in this era it was either Dumbledore or Voldemort. The two towering giants of wizardry of the time.

Dumbledore was a master of Transfiguration, and Voldemort's knowledge of the Dark Arts was second to none. Which was superior? The answer came to him naturally. It was obvious, the Dark Arts used dark magic as a weapon, but Transfiguration used the world itself as a weapon.

"Transfiguration. It is fluid in both attack and defence, and is extremely versatile. In my opinion Transfiguration is the superior type"

Snape smirked. "Yes. Transfiguration is superior, there is no doubt. But in such duels as the Dark Lord against Dumbledore, it comes down to speed and creativity rather than power and potency. They are very near equal when it comes to magical power, with the Dark Lord holding the edge. To fight opponents such as them, you need imagination. You need extremely fast reflexes and perception…and in those areas you can far outstrip anyone."

"Sharingan", nodded Harry. Snape continued at this. "Thus your strength lies in your Sharingan, which you will train with my help from now onwards. That is your advantage in this tournament. The apprentice bond supersedes the goblet contract, thus I will be able to help you in all ways. I trust you won't need it?"

"I won't. But I will continue my training regardless of any tournament, Professor" said Harry. Snape nodded with appreciation, and walked off briskly towards the dungeons after bidding him goodnight.

Harry walked towards Gryffindor tower, thinking about his studies. Even though it had been barely more than a month, his learning with Snape had been beneficial in the extreme. Even if his fellow champions were excellent wizards, he was sure they were not trained by someone of Snape's calibre. In his regular classes, Harry had to try very little. Charms were easy, as was Transfiguration. His Sharingan aided in everything, even reading other people without Legilimency. He was slowly improving at interpreting magic that he could see with his eyes, and his enormous magic was growing more flexible and fluid.

But he took care to not abandon his wand work; he might need it any day.

"Hello, brother. Can we talk for a bit?"

Harry stopped dead, turning around slowly. How had she managed to follow him without detection? Isabelle slowly walked toward him, looking for all the world like a concerned sister. His Sharingan observed her minutely, recording her details both magical and physical. With a huge effort he managed to restrain himself from throwing spells, very painful spells.

"You are surprised because there was no disturbance in the magic around you, right?" she asked. Harry did not answer, instead analysing how the magic in the school reacted to her presence. It would be very important later as it was something that could be used against her.

"There are ways to still the disturbances you create, you know. Snape has not taught you that yet, I suppose? Well, that is for later. But for now…" she drew her wand and waved it in half a circle. Harry noticed what were obviously the effects of a disillusionment fall over them.

He zeroed in on her wand, and noticed the calmness and an odd kind of solemnity it introduced upon the surrounding magic. The wood was obviously a combination of holly and birch, he could tell that much with a glance. For the first time, he closely examined his sister. She wore the standard Beauxbatons' robes, blue and white and he could admit that she did cut a very striking figure.

Isabelle had also gone silent and was observing Harry in return. This was the very first time the two of them were able to converse with each other in relative privacy. Harry too drew his wand and layered his own privacy charm over hers. This was one conversation he did not want the entire school to speculate about.

"You can dispense with the wand, Harry. I know you are better without it" said Isabelle, her eyes shining with emotion as she let her facial control fade to finally reveal her full feelings. Tears slowly ran down her face as she beheld the brother she was separated from for so many years.

"I will do as I wish, Snyder. I was relieved to hear that you have renamed yourselves…I was afraid I would have to remove a stain from the Potter line and that would mean killing family. But I have no problems killing Snyders…" said Harry with cold amusement.

"We are still your family, Harry. Blood is more important than some name, you know. Names are less powerful than blood in the magical arts. Our parents made a terrible mistake with you, Harry, and you can hate them for it if you so wish. But do not endanger our cause with your hatred of us, brother. Lives depend on it" pleaded Isabelle.

Harry laughed. And it was not filled with the pleasure of reunion. One might say it was filled with quite the opposite.

"So…my life still does not matter to you, hmm? All the other lives that may be lost if I go against 'our' cause trouble you this much, I see. Always the same, aren't you. Always willing to throw me away for some obscure goal…when the time comes, sister…I will take great pleasure in tearing your lives from your bodies. You and those so-called parents of mine. For now, stay out of my way. You are not a priority anymore for me" snarled Harry as he gazed upon the rapidly whitening visage of his sister.

"No, no! Harry, you have it all wrong! I am trying to make the best of a situation both of us had no power to change! Our cause-"

"Your cause? Your cause? Are you from the Department of Mysteries, Isabelle?" said Harry in an ice cold voice. "Is this the secret which you hid in your mind? Is this how you were responsible for my pain?"

Harry's tightly leashed anger was running free again, and his magic was boiling. Memories of his torture at Azkaban filled his head...the feeling of pain not so long past still made him shiver.

"Harry, no. Are you alright?" asked Isabelle, slowly coming forward.

Tear her apart. Fill her head with worms of madness…It was all her fault! Her fault! Our eyes see it all…that traitorous BITCH! I WILL KILL HER!

Harry held his head tightly, sinking down to his knees. The voice only he could hear was yelling again, full of pure rage and straining with madness. He violently gripped Isabelle's soft hand upon his forehead and with a manoeuvre he had learnt during his torture, he broke her arm with a sharp twist and blasted her back with a disarming charm.

He stared at the prone form of his sister, her face white with agony and eyes shining with tears she refused to shed. Insane anger gripped him once more and he raised his wand. "Traitor" he hissed. Isabelle lay on the ground bereft of her wand, and with her wand arm broken. She slowly raised her face to meet Harry's and whispered words through the pain:

"Fouet à la force!"

Though he clearly saw magic twisting into shape, he could do nothing to stop the whip of force that slashed him across his chest and threw him back painfully. Stars bloomed in his vision as the pain overtook everything for a moment.

As his vision cleared, he saw Isabelle summon her wand back into her hand and heal herself. His chest throbbed painfully as he got up, and cold rage flooded his mind as he looked at Isabelle staring back at him sadly.

This time, he could understand the essence of the simple spell thrown at him and he could actually add words to the raw magical manipulation. Sharingan could perceive the simple twists of magic completely, and he could visualize the spell fully.

"Flagellum vi!"

Isabelle easily blocked the spell with a simple swish of her wand. "I have been training for years, Harry, and not for duelling. I am a fully qualified department operative, Brother, and the youngest in this century. Don't refuse my help because of your pride and our past. I can help you reach your full potential"

I am not fast enough. I could see her spell quite clearly, but my body could not react in time. I lack physical conditioning, he thought in frustration. With a great effort, he shelved the boiling emotions and walked away calmly.

"We will speak again, Harry. I won't give you up so easily, not again. Never again" said Isabelle with resolve, watching as Harry walked away from her. She was not here to be a nuisance, only to plant certain thoughts in the mind of her little brother.

He has enormous self-control for a tortured fourteen year old, thought Isabelle with pride. Indeed, she had expected to force Harry to listen to her by subduing him in a duel. But he had surprised her yet again by not forcing a real fight.

This restraint of his surging emotions makes him a lot more dangerous than loose cannon. Hard to be manipulated. I could see it in his eyes, they saw everything I did.

Nevertheless, she had achieved what she had come here to do. Harry would now concentrate on the physical aspect as well, strengthening his instincts even more. It was her duty to help her little brother, even if he did not want to be helped by her.

…..

James Potter sat in front of his desk, his head in his hands. For all the pretence he made at being a perfect agent of the Department of Mysteries, he was anxious about how his two children got along. Isabelle was always a likable little girl, and now she had become a charming and beautiful young woman. Normally he would say Harry would forget and be close with Isabelle once again.

But their Harry was no longer normal. He still shivered when he remembered the look in his son's eyes after his imprisonment. It was neither empty, nor was it full of vengeance. No, his son had become cold and calculating with tightly leashed rage driving his actions.

He had no doubt everyone was thinking the same thing as him: In creating a wizard to destroy Voldemort, they had possibly created something even worse. It tore his heart that he had to consign his own son to such a fate…but there was no other choice. They were all driven and not just by prophecy or by superiors.

"All this thinking doesn't suit you, Jamesie" said Sirius Black, apparating behind his long-time friend. James turned to him, not feeling any better about the situation. Sirius himself had made a very great sacrifice in the scheme of things, much greater than anyone else. God only knew how much the Black heir had loved Harry, James still remembered how much his best friend had doted upon his son.

But he was forced to give it all up and languish in Azkaban. That particular setup by the Department had been too cruel, James could not understand for the world why Sirius would agree to such a proposal. But he had agreed, stunning most of the department with his loyalty.

Sirius Black might be a hated fugitive to the outside world, but inside the confines of the department his name was celebrated.

"I don't know what to do, Sirius. How can you make a fourteen year old kid understand what the Potter family was forced to give up during the first war? The Wizarding world does not really remember the magnitude of the darkness we were mired in thirteen years ago. I fear Harry is…"

Sirius' face hardened with anger, and his eyes flashed.

"I never liked Croaker, he and Albus really messed our boy up. Croaker was always about results, wasn't he? That moron…I really want to kill him myself for what he did to Harry" he said coldly. But then he softened: "But Harry has no idea of the power he possesses, with those eyes of his he could be…well, he could be the next Emrys"

"That power does not come without a cost, Siri, and without that power he would die against Voldemort. I don't know what to do, I just don't know!" he said wildly.

"What's Nick doing in all this? That bloke should have stepped in a long time ago!" snarled Sirius. James shook his head sadly.

"Nicholas and Perenelle have their own responsibilities, as you very well know. Now Snape has my son, and you know what that greasy idiot will do. I wouldn't be surprised if Harry simply joined Voldemort to spite us, you know. Not after what we've put him through. Nicholas would be forced to step in if that happens, we cannot let the first bearer of the Eternal Mangekyo to fall to the dark! That can't happen. It just can't…" said James in tones of soft despair.

"Jamesie, I can help you out there. We are Animagi, after all, and I can help keep an eye on our boy and even Little Isabelle if you want. I can keep him from becoming too much like dear old Snivelly." said Sirius cheerfully. James could still not believe the resilience of his closest friend; even after thirteen years in the hell called Azkaban he still was as close to normal as possible.

"I can't ask you to do that, Siri…you have gone through enough. You still have a part to play, and you need to be ready. If Albus catches you snooping around there is no telling what he'd do. Nicholas has already cut Albus off from the High chair-"

"Yes I will do it, Jamesie" said Sirius firmly. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for Harry. The Potters and Blacks have always been kin, and I will honour that bond as best as I can. Albus is not heartless, James. He is just too desensitized to the misery of it all, you know. It is a natural defence of the human psyche against situations such as his. Albus is no immortal, Jamesie. But coming back to the point, yes, I will hide out at Hogwarts to help Harry. Not even you could stop me from doing so."

James clasped his friend's arm solemnly.

"Thank you, my friend. I won't forget this, I promise"

…..

A certain rat scarpered through the dank passageways of a remote castle, dextrously slipping through cracks and crevices hardly visible.

It came out in a large room, looking here and there frantically and chittered. It ran to the single chair sitting in the middle of the room, and to the abomination that was seated weakly in the middle of the chair. The abomination was hooded by a cloak, and only glowing red eyes were visible.

"What news, Wormtail?"

The rat morphed fluidly into a ratlike man, shabby in the extreme. Peter Pettigrew bowed to his lord, shaking in fear. His master's grasp of magic was frighteningly deep; he still shook in fear at the memory of the ritual his lord had used to gain a tangible body. Then later his Lord had gained even more strength for some reason, he had no idea why. One night he was an immobile homunculus, and the next morning he had the strength of a weak human child. Peter could feel echoes of the true power of the dark in his Lord, mere fractions of the strength he had commanded at the height of his glory.

But still he was nothing compared to Lord Voldemort. He will return soon enough with me by his side, thought Peter. When he returns, not even Albus will be able to stop him. He seems stronger for some reason…I feel it.

"My lord, events are going as planned. The tournament has begun, and he is able to influence it as you require. The Goblet has chosen the one you want and it will only be a matter of time before the dark order rises again!" squeaked Wormtail.

The figure in the chair let out a sibilant hiss, causing an enormous serpent to slither onto its form. Then it held out a wand, pushing it out from the depths of its cloak.

"Crucio!"

Wormtail screamed in pain, feeling the torture of white hot knives rending his flesh into pieces. His master held the curse for a couple minutes, causing his screams to escalate to high pitched squealing. Suddenly the curse was lifted, causing Wormtail to slump onto the floor in relief.

"Do not presume too much, Wormtail. Lord Voldemort does not tolerate presumption on the part of vermin such as you. And do not think I can't sense your thoughts now, you traitor. You wish to abandon me again?" asked Voldemort in a chilling voice.

Peter shook like a leaf in the wind at seeing his master's eyes glow a dull red. Voldemort flicked his wand weakly: "Cysgodol Gwylio"

The shadows in the room flickered and vanished, leaving absolutely no shadows in the dimly lit hall.

"Your wards are weak, Wormtail, just like you are. I can feel a constant stirring in the ambient magic, something has changed. Something very old has returned to this world, you snivelling rat. I am not yet strong enough scry with my own magic…Do you know what the Ritual of Scrying entails? I require assistance in arranging the ritual."

"N-no master…" sniffled Wormtail. A chilling laughter escaped Voldemort as he withdrew his wand. "A Pity…" he said. "A pity you had to find me, and not someone like Severus or Lucius. No matter, I still have one faithful lieutenant in my ranks…and I will use him. Send a letter to Hogwarts, Wormtail, conveying to him my orders to attend me at once"

Bowing, Wormtail scarpered away in his rat form. The Dark Lord is becoming restless, and his power is growing slowly day by day. If…no, when he is resurrected I will be honoured beyond all others.

….

"He is angry, Harry. They all are angry at you for cheating….can you really blame them? Ravenclaw had hopes for a champion of their own house, as did Slytherin. Hufflepuff was absolutely frantic for Cedric Diggory to be chosen. Then someone they detest to the core comes along and grabs their glory? I am afraid it will only get worse, Harry…" said Hermione worriedly.

Harry strode along unconcernedly, at least on the outside. He could handle students easily enough, no problem. But he was worried by others…the ones who had a real hand in the game. He was sure Voldemort had something to do with the entire affair; he could almost feel it like some sixth sense. When it came to Voldemort, he had no doubt that his instinct was uncanny.

And where Voldemort and he were involved, the Department was also involved. The Heads of the other schools were also wildcards he could not anticipate easily. The allegiance of the Moody impostor was also questionable. Who did he work for?

So many variables and unpredictables. I must tread extremely carefully…I will be noticed since I have entered the tournament by unlawful means.

He ignored the hateful looks every student shot him, heading towards the Potions class. The approval or disapproval of these insects meant nothing to him, they were beneath him. He was better than them and he would always be. Hermione strode hurriedly beside him and whispered: "Harry, let us avoid the Gryffindors…go in a little late. The entire house is enraged with you, the Weasleys especially. They might even attack you."

Harry looked at her curiously. "Are you scared of them, Hermione? You know we are better than them. You show it every year by outstripping them in class, I show it by enduring things they cannot imagine. If they attack us, we respond likewise."

Hermione's face firmed and she nodded, discreetly slipping a palm upon her wand. Harry did the same nonchalantly. A small part of Harry felt happiness at the fact that Hermione was here with him so loyally, with no coercion or force. When everyone and everything was against him, she alone stood by his side.

They coolly walked into the Potions classroom, just a mite early. Heads turned towards them in a jiffy with most students wearing looks of hatred at best. Harry watched with secret amusement as Ron faced away from him as if he was deeply hurt.

Fool, thought Harry as he occupied a desk with Hermione. He spied Malfoy sitting quietly, not joining in his taunting by the Slytherins. His hidden Sharingan flashed to the door, seeing near it a magical presence. Snape was probably here.

The quietness of the forbidding and dank classroom was broken as Theodore Nott stood up and yelled: "Gryffindors are scum! Potter cheated his way into the tournament, and they have the gall to call us treacherous? Pathetic!" he spat at the Gryffindor half of the room. Harry did not react, but increased his perception through the Sharingan to be ready for some weak attack by his classmates.

Hermione, though, was whispering in his ear to ignore them all. Harry didn't think she noticed him doing exactly that…sometimes he thought Hermione was even slower to adapt to change than Ron. But she did try.

"Potter is no Gryffindor! He is just like you Slytherins, traitorous and useless. You'll pay if you compare Potter to the real Gryffindors, Nott!" snarled Seamus, shooting a nasty look at Harry. Harry stared right back into his eyes, and Seamus thought he saw a flash of red in Harry's pupils. Abruptly he turned around, hearing a threat addressed to him by Nott.

"FINNEGAN! YOU'LL SUFFER!"

Seamus saw Nott draw his wand slowly, shouting what was obviously the Balding Hex. The Gryffindor could not contain his alarm and rage as he drew his wand fast and sent a Confundus charm at Nott.

For a moment there was silence as Nott was hit by the charm and moved around like some befuddled calf. Then with a loud roar, the Slytherins pounced upon the Gryffindors with their spells shooting through the air in multi coloured lights.

…..

Harry watched the unfolding chaos with a faint smirk, satisfied with his work. His illusion spell was flawless in its execution, projecting to Seamus the vision of Nott trying to attack him. The moment Seamus looked into his Sharingan unwittingly, Harry had owned him.

He kept his Sharingan active constantly to pick up any new spells cast by the students. Seamus and Nott were clumsily casting curses at each other, not caring what they were doing to their surroundings. The rest of the Gryffindors had jumped on to the desks like monkeys and were letting loose their own brand of hell. Dean Thomas was letting spell after weak spell leave his wand, damaging nothing significantly. One spell of his hit Parvati Patil, causing her to erupt in warts.

And they call themselves noble and chivalrous, snorted Harry to himself. The Slytherins themselves were no angels, and were upending benches and sending spells at Snape's jars to create widespread confusion. The utter pandemonium in the room escalated, and Harry neatly concealed himself and Hermione with disillusionment.

Hermione herself watched the scene with her mouth hanging open, having no idea why the fight started in the first place. All she saw was Dean attacking Nott for some small provocation, and then it all went downhill.

Harry smirked once more as he saw a particularly strong leg-locker curse punch a small hole in the black board. Snape will gut them, he thought, absently deflecting another leg locker coming right at his face. He saw Hermione deflecting a disarmer coming at her from a Slytherin, sending it right back at them.

"Learnt the Protego Totalum, have we, Hermione?" asked Harry. As expected, Hermione had mastered quite a tough shielding charm in a matter of days. She had the casting method down pat, and the power of her shield would increase gradually. Hermione smiled happily, cancelling the shield.

"It was a little difficult, but I found an old book in the library that has exact illustrations of how the shield should look. It really helped in my visualization of its structure. I can make it perfectly concave now, you know!" said Hermione. Harry gravely nodded, deflecting another spell with a single glance and turned back to the 'class'.

Several students lay groaning in their chairs, some on the floor and desks. Half transfigured animals crawled about menacingly, and the combatants seemed to have various unknown skin diseases.

"This is what a well-placed illusion can do, Hermione. Misdirection is a powerful tool, as you can see" said Harry calmly as he removed their concealment. Hermione turned to him sharply.

"Did you provoke Seamus into casting that spell? I assume you had him see Nott attack?" Harry nodded, she was right as always. Hermione shook her head and said: "Hogwarts does not teach illusionary magic, Harry. These students will have no hope of countering such exotic magic. They just do not know what to look for!"

"Do you know what to look for?"

"Well-" began Hermione, but was interrupted by the door opening quietly to let in their potions Professor who surveyed the devastation with a critical eye. Snape turned to Harry and Hermione, noting their lack of injury.

"What happened here, ?" he asked silkily.

"A minor misunderstanding between our houses, sir. Seamus Finnegan attacked Nott with no provocation and kick started this travesty. Both houses got involved, as you can see.", replied Harry with a faint note of smugness in his voice. Hermione remained silent, not knowing what to say.

Snape glanced around coolly, and turned once more to Harry. " , you are required in the anteroom with the other Champions. The Weighing of the wands is about to commence."

He then turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you can return to your dormitory. A class cannot happen with one student. And do not help your housemates please; fools will suffer for their foolishness in my class. Leave them be."

…..

Harry walked briskly down to the room where the ceremony would be held, absently muttering a spell of cleanliness. Appearances were important, after all. Professor Snape had told him about the traditions of the Triwizard, and the wand weighing was one of them.

"More than the wands, , the ones inspected will be the champions. Wands are a reflection of their owners, so what Ollivander really will be doing is checking your integrity and character. The wand of course will be examined, but he will look at the wand and see you in it."

Snape's words came back to him, and he paused for a moment and drew his wand. With a simple spell, he polished the wand to the point of shining and stowed it back in his robes. He was almost at the door of the chamber.

"Harry Potter?" came a shrill voice behind him. He turned to find a curly haired woman with wire rimmed glasses and an extremely inquisitive and irritating look. He closely inspected her with the Sharingan, making note of the mediocrity of her magic. All he saw in her was pettiness and nastiness.

"Yes. What do you want?"

"No need to be so abrupt, Harry. We are all friends here, aren't we?" cooed the reporter and began to drag him by his arm. Harry let her drag him along, knowing that attacking this woman would present unnecessary complications. The badge upon her robes told him that she was a daily prophet reporter, called Rita Skeeter.

Rita forcefully shoved him in a broom cupboard and turned to him with a beaming smile.

"Cosy? Now, Harry, I am Rita Skeeter reporting for the Prophet. Would you be fine with answering a few questions?"

"Confundo!" said Harry, hitting the rude reporter with a powerful Confundus charm. Rita's eyes blanked, and then started rolling around continuously. She slowly started to walk out of the closet but bumped her head on the frame about three times before she got out.

"Greetings, Rita. And you, , has our dear Rita been hiding you away all along?" came a strong voice along the hallway. Harry turned to find Albus Dumbledore closely inspecting Skeeter. He moved ahead of Rita and tried to walk into the ceremony room, but found that he couldn't. His arms and legs were frozen in place, and he turned his head to face Dumbledore staring at him with shining eyes. To his Sharingan it seemed as if Dumbledore were aglow with magic, golden threads of it binding Harry in place.

How many times must we play this game? Thought Harry with frustration. He gathered his magic like a great tide, and his Sharingan shone red. At least it would attract attention to them, for he was nowhere near ready to fight Dumbledore. Not without Tsukuyomi, and the headmaster would not fall to that again. As it is, he was assiduously avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Expulso" said Harry quietly, but the effect was stunning. The floor and the walls crumbled and blasted out in an expanding circle from the force of the spell. Dust clouded the entire hallway and he heard the explosion reach Dumbledore. Dumbledore had stopped restraining him, obviously not expecting such a violent response from his student.

Through the smoke, he saw something forming into a shape. His Sharingan saw through the smoke, witnessing Dumbledore neatly gathering the debris from the explosion in the shape of a large sphere. The sphere then transformed into a Hippogriff, charging violently at him.

Why is the old man attacking me now? Does he want to put me out of commission or is this some misconceived attempt to train me?

He could not force a transfiguration on the Hippogriff, nor could he return it to state. It was time for him to try a spell he was reading up on quite a lot. Ever since he copied it, he had been looking for a situation that justified its use.

He raised his hand, pointing it at the Hippogriff that was almost upon him. His palm began to shine green as he intoned:

"Avada Kedavra!"

The Hippogriff took the killing curse straight in its chest, and exploded into shards. Harry pointed a palm shining with green light right at Dumbledore.

"You fight well, Harry, but not with patience. A duel has to be fought on your terms. Not mine or anyone else's…and do not use the Killing Curse again. I will be forced to stop you." said Dumbledore firmly, not caring whether Harry was about to fire a lethal curse at him.

"Fallen far, haven't you? Ambushing your own champion on his way to a ceremony is a new low even for you" said Harry in a sarcastic voice as he shot stunners at Dumbledore. A multitude of red beams converged upon Dumbledore who negligently swatted all of them away with a flick of his wand.

"This is the weighing of the wands, Harry. Your wand's behaviour is being examined even now, as our wandmakers need to observe it in action. This is usually in the form of a duel with the Headmasters. Please use your wand as that is the whole point. The other champions are being tested by their Headmasters as of now. And do try to use all your abilities" said Dumbledore pointedly, flicking his wand in the direction of a suit of armor which came alive and began brandishing its sword at Harry.

So, a test. They wish to see my wand in action? Very well…

With a smooth draw of his wand, Harry banished Dumbledore's suit of Armor right back at him. Dumbledore too responded with a very strong banishing charm that sent the poor suit of armor hurtling back at him at great speeds. His Sharingan spun as he neatly dodged the incoming projectile while simultaneously firing a Reductor at his opponent.

As he saw Dumbledore parry the spell easily, he knew the key was to get Dumbledore to look into his Sharingan. Then putting him in an illusion would be that much easier.

He sent Dumbledore's golden Stunning spell right at him, the one he had copied from the Old man after the train incident . He already saw what Dumbledore's counter with his Sharingan, and followed up with another couple stunners. Without pause he followed up with another copied spell.

"Hastam Tenebrarum!"

A short spear of darkness shot towards Dumbledore who was gracefully parrying all the spells coming at him, and withered to nothing when Dumbledore simply waved his wand. Harry steadily became frustrated, not letting it show on his face.

Is this how wide the gap is between me and the traitor? Well, then…

"I hate you for everything you have done to me, Professor! You took everything away from me, everything! Even my parents!" sobbed Harry, letting some of his utter anguish show. Dumbledore suddenly appeared in front of Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder, duel forgotten.

"It was for the Greater good, Harry…please forgive me. Those things had to happen, you don't understand yet-"he paused when Harry looked up abruptly, straight into his eyes.

And found himself staring fully into the Sharingan. The legendary eyes shone red as Dumbledore disappeared immediately to break contact.

"Well played, Harry!" said Dumbledore loudly. Harry just quietly stared at Dumbledore, saying nothing. "Reducto!" said Dumbledore, and the spell blasted towards Harry with terrific force. Dumbledore watched as Harry dissolved into a flock of ravens, his spell not catching the boy in the slightest.

"You looked into my eyes, fool. This duel is over" said Harry, consciously fighting down the urge to just try and kill Dumbledore. "Impedimenta" said Dumbledore, the spell causing Harry to dissolve into another flock of ravens that reformed slowly behind Dumbledore.

"I will end this."

Dumbledore fell down as he felt the sensation of the complete vacuum in the place. Harry watched in satisfaction as the Headmaster fell down once more, taken down for the second time by his illusory magic.

Dumbledore's own perceptions were being used against him. The Headmaster was essentially being made to hold his breath even unto death.

Are illusions truly that unused? Mused Harry silently, strangling Dumbledore's efforts to throw off his illusion.

"You cannot overcome my illusion, traitor. I will let you go if you yield" said Harry. Dumbledore was now holding his throat, believing that he was choking to death. How can he submit if he can't speak? Thought Harry smugly. Dumbledore's face slowly turned blue, as he stopped making sounds.

He felt an enormous upsurge of magic in Dumbledore, huge like an ocean. He struggled hard to keep him under submission, sweat breaking out on his face and flowing down in rivulets. He had no doubt he would probably be severely injured if Dumbledore actually tried to fight him. So he morphed his eyes to eternal Mangekyo, ruthlessly crushing Dumbledore's troublesome attempts to throw his illusion off.

Dumbledore really underestimates my eyes, doesn't he? This is what they mean when they say that a user of illusory magic is rare …Wizards just don't know much beyond theory on how to counter it. A great advantage for me.

Dumbledore finally sank on to the floor, spread eagled. Harry knew the old man would hardly die so easily, and he was proved right when phoenix fire surrounded the Headmaster in a wide circle. When the fire was gone, he saw Dumbledore standing tall with Fawkes on his shoulder.

"Always that bird is around to save a traitor like you. What does the thing see in you anyway? You are as far as you can get from purity, and it is supposed to be the embodiment of purity", asked Harry. Dumbledore just shook his head, and disappeared in a flash of fire, leaving Harry to stand there amidst the destruction of their duel.

"Who fought here?" asked Krum, surveying the damage in the hallway entrance to the anteroom.

The Champions were all gathered in the anteroom behind the Great Hall, each of them wearing battered looks. All except Harry and Isabelle, who looked as fresh as ever.

It seems they were all tested similar to me. What kind of wand weighing ceremony is this? A simple spell from each wand would have sufficed for testing functional reliability. I wonder…

The door opened quietly, letting in the headmasters of each school. This time Harry saw that Dumbledore had his phoenix sitting on his shoulder. He directly stared into Fawkes' eyes with his Sharingan, and paled slightly: He got images of blazing fire that purified everything in the world…phoenixes were beyond human understanding.

How in the world did Dumbledore manage to make 'Fawkes', if even that is the thing's real name, his companion? Phoenixes are pure beyond all dispute…Dumbledore is anything but pure. A puzzle…

"Greetings and felicitations to all the champions of the schools! As expected, you have passed our preliminary test. You have shown that you are capable of using your magic in ways beyond those expected of you. It seems the Goblet chose well…" said Dumbledore. Fawkes surveyed all the champions, calming ragged emotions with his soothing song.

"Vhat kind of test vas this? Ve vere told that our wands would be tested for proper functionality! Instead we were attacked…by our own headmasters? "asked Viktor Krum.

"An unfortunate legacy of the Triwizard, I am afraid" sighed Dumbledore. "To test our students' wands, our wandmaker has to see it casting spells and not trivial ones. We would trust no one but ourselves in this matter, as this is mostly about the wands. The suspicion between schools has always been high…"

"And for good reason, it seems" said Karkaroff snidely. Bagman stepped up looking unwholesomely happy about the entire situation. "Now now, Igor! Let the kids have their fun when they can! We still need to have Ollivander's feedback on all this, you know?"

Harry clearly saw the disillusionment being lifted from the creepy old wand maker. What surprised him was that none of his opponents seemed surprised either, watching Ollivander warily. The old man stepped up to face the champions, his eyes roving over a parchment that seemed to have detailed notes on it.

Arithmantical calculations, thought Harry. Ollivander is a much acclaimed wand maker, after all. The intricacy of the art is very impressive indeed.

" " said Ollivander, looking at the beautiful Veela gravely. Fleur looked at him with rapt attention, despite her look of fatigue and torn robes. Harry observed that she seemed to have an uncanny connection with her wand, even more than was normal. She almost seemed one with her wand, really.

"Your wand is fine. It conducts magic exceptionally well…yours, , is on the slower side when it comes to spellcasting. But that is your problem. Gregorovitch creations are masterpieces, after all."

He looked at Isabelle and Harry next, seeming to examine them in minute detail. He looked at Isabelle steadily and continued:

" 's wand is in excellent condition, but it is yet to be registered with our ministry is it not, my dear?" he asked softly. Isabelle nodded at this, while Harry's ears perked up at this information.

"I have one last piece of advice for you, my dear. The wand chooses the witch or Wizard, and both learn from each other. Your wand has learnt many things from you…many things indeed. Be sure to know fully what it is that it has learned so well…the information may save your life one day", he said enigmatically. Isabelle nodded once more, her eyes wide.

To Harry however, these words made little sense. Thoughts on this matter were driven further away when Ollivander addressed him.

" …It seems you are no longer the innocent child that purchased that wand from me. Your wand also has learnt many things from you…but I am afraid you have learnt little from it. Any wand will work well for you, but that wand has your spirit burning bright in it. It may yet be of use to you, " he said, never taking his eyes off Harry's.

Immediately Harry's eyes shifted to Eternal Mangekyo, and he whispered "Tsukuyomi". He faced Ollivander in the bleak red world, its white clouds racing and the sky shining with the colour of blood. Ollivander stood opposite him in the desolate plains of Tsukuyomi, examining the world with extreme fascination.

"Beautiful…it is as if this world is as real as our own! But then again, what is reality? A question Wizard kind has pondered for many centuries…" he turned to Harry with an unreadable expression on his face. " , I am afraid I know your secret. Albus filled me in on what happened, and you have my sincerest condolences and apologies. No child should go through what you have gone through…but you must remember what I told you. You are destined for greatness, . And that greatness requires terrible sacrifices, much like your own. And I am afraid your journey has only just begun."

Harry's eyes shone, and the entire world rippled as he delved effortlessly into Ollivander's mind and searched for any sign of complicity in his sufferings. Ollivander did not even try to block his mind from attack, laying open his thoughts with alacrity.

"It seems you are innocent of causing me pain" said Harry. "But I cannot let you leave with the experience of my world. It is bad enough Dumbledore knows."

"And your sister" said Ollivander. "Albus is a close friend of mine, and trusts me a great deal. But do what you must, . Even if I wanted to, I could do nothing to stop you here. This place is yours, absolutely."

Tsukuyomi rippled once more as Harry gently excised Ollivander's memory of being in his illusion. Then he ejected the old Wandmaker smoothly out of his world.

In the anteroom of Hogwarts, Ollivander shook himself slightly a second later, and continued.

"The weighing of the wands is over, and the champions are ready with their wand and mind. The tasks can be begun!" he said in an official voice to the assembled headmasters and authorities.

Harry smirked in the background, feeling Isabelle's eyes on him. My skill with Tsukuyomi is growing slowly. Who knows what other powers my eyes hide?

Maybe Ollivander was right. Power like mine has the potential to change history, and the magic that comes with my eyes can shake the pillars of Wizardry itself. Maybe all such power comes at a price.

Then again, what is light without darkness? How can you know sweetness without tasting bitterness?

But to be the most powerful, I will pay a price ten times higher than what I have now. I will stop at nothing until I stand at the very top of the Wizarding world, acknowledged as unsurpassed.