The tournament's almost beginning! Not much really happens in this chapter that is original, aside from the first and last scenes, but there is much original dialogue. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think by posting a REVIEW!

Chapter 7: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang – Take Two

September 1, 2000

"Blimey, mate…hard to believe we were ever that small, eh?" Ron muttered to Harry, who was currently hidden under his Invisibility Cloak.

"I was smaller," Harry said wryly, checking for the umpteenth time as to whether he had his wand in his new holster.

Ron wrinkled his nose in remembrance. "So you were… Say, Harry, you really think something's going to happen today? You've been Occluding, right? So maybe that's why—"

"Occlumency or not, Ron, my scar always tingles when Voldemort's"—Ron flinched—"doing something. Since it hasn't tingled once in the last month, I think it's a pretty safe bet that he has something big planned. Since this is a really important day, why not now?"

"Could you not say his name?" Ron hissed. "What if it's Taboo?"

"It's not Taboo yet," Hermione said, popping up next to them. "He wants to lie low and give the world a false sense of security."

"It's working," Harry muttered, eyes narrowed as he inspected the station for suspicious activity. "They don't have a clue."

"Kingsley's no help at all," Ron said bitterly, picking at his sleeves. "He's the bloody Minister and he isn't doing a thing! All he said back in August was that he was terribly sorry but that it was a great tragedy! A tragedy!" His voice choked on the last word and he had to inhale deeply, blinking rapidly.

Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm. "But that's the problem, Ron. He can easily be voted out with a vote of no confidence. If he's supporting a stance as radical as saying that Voldemort's"—Ron flinched—"back so soon after Harry supposedly killed him—"

"Thanks, Hermione."

"—then we will have a riot on our hands. He was just as upset as you were about what happened that day, but it's not like he could publicly say that everyone's worst nightmare is back."

"Well, if Voldemort attacks today, it should be a pretty clear sign that something's up, right?" Harry asked. "I mean, how do you cover up something like that?"

Ron rubbed his eyes furiously. "By being incredibly disgustedly Slytherin," he said firmly, his voice thick. "He broke his Death Eaters out from Azkaban the first time and no one noticed a thing."

"They were too busy blaming Sirius," Harry said. Neither of his friends could see his pained face but they heard his tone.

"I've got to go," Hermione murmured. "Snape can't manage that side all by himself."

As she slipped away, Harry whispered to Ron, "Would it kill you two to call him by his first name?"

Ron shot the invisible space where his friend was standing an amused look that was rather spoiled by his teary eyes. "He's your friend, Harry. We like him and all"—his tone suggested that was highly debatable—"but you're his friend and he's yours. I'm sure he just barely tolerates us."

"He likes you," Harry said. When Ron gave a snort of disbelief, he insisted, "No, really. He just doesn't show it."

"I'll believe that when pigs fly."

"Shall I get Minerva?" Harry teased. "I'm sure she could arrange that."

"Why you—" Ron was cut off as the Hogwarts Express's whistle blew, deafening both of them. "Bloody hell! How come I never noticed it's so loud?"

"Because we were always inside," Harry suggested once the ringing in their ears disappeared. "Come on. We need to make sure we're patrolling properly. No slacking off."

"You're not the only one who trained with the Aurors," Ron grumbled, pulling out two Firebolts they had stashed away for this purpose. "You taking off your cloak?"

"Wouldn't be much use considering I'm flying a broom," Harry said, pulling off the hood. "Should my decapitated head strike fear into anyone?"

"It strikes fear into me!"

Mirthlessly grinning at one another, Ron and Harry kicked off the platform, taking up the rear end of the train. Severus and Hermione had the front end, while other members of the Order of the Phoenix such as Ginny, Bill, and Charlie took up the middle. Harry tried not to think about why three other members of the Order weren't there.

True to his word, Harry was simply flying as a head, although some of his body flickered into view now and then as the wind whipped at it. The broom was visible below him, along with his trainers.

Ron took a look at him and shuddered. "You know, that's creepier than what I thought it would be."

"Boo," Harry said dryly.

"Ha ha."

Nodding at each other, Harry and Ron pressed down over their brooms and kept pace with the furiously chugging train. Their eyes roved over the surrounding countryside, peeled for any attacks that might occur.

But when something happened, it occurred where they least expected it.

There was a loud explosion at the front of the train, as the engine compartment suddenly combusted into flames and the train started pouring on the speed.

Ron swore violently and pressed down hard, zooming forward in a blur of speed.

Harry slowed down slightly, trying to find where this strange feeling was coming from. It was almost as if—

There were dozens of Apparition pops around them as hooded figures in black appeared and began firing upon the train. They all had brooms as well.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, zooming towards the ground.

"On it, Harry!"

Whipping out his wand, Harry shot off five Stunners in a row, hitting all his targets and sending them hurtling towards the ground.

The children inside the train were screaming and there was spell fire on the train as well. Pressing closer to the windows, Harry could see that the prefects, sixth and seventh years, and Head Boy and Girl were giving back as good as they got. They were the ones who had seen the Final Battle between him and Voldemort and were some of the best in Defense.

Somewhat satisfied that the problem in there was being taken care of, Harry turned his attention back to the problem outside the runaway vehicle.

He whipped his handle to the side and shot between two Death Eaters, setting their brooms afire as he did. Being a floating head on a broomstick really did have its advantages.

All in all, it didn't seem to be so bad (aside from the runaway train but Harry could see that Hermione was working on it). They were holding their own against the Death Eaters, and he had to wonder just how Voldemort had managed to recruit so many. Was he going abroad?

If he was, all they needed was the Russian Mafia and then things would be well and truly fucked.

A second later, his scar burst into violent tingling that made him so lightheaded he almost steered right into the train. He quickly jerked up the handle of the broom and suddenly found himself face to face with Voldemort, who was flying without a broom.

"Hello, Harry," Voldemort purred, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Did you miss me?"

Harry growled at him. "Not bloody likely! Reducto!"

Voldemort batted the curse aside without blinking. "You'll have to do better than that, Harry. Priori Incantatem won't save you now…"

Harry looked at the wand of yew Voldemort was holding and suddenly knew without a doubt that it had a heartstring of a basilisk in it. "Nice wand. Who'd you murder for it?"

Voldemort's face twisted into fury. "Would you like to find out?"

"I'd love to, quite frankly, but I'm still trying to find out how you're here."

Voldemort grinned crookedly, his black robe whipping the sides of the Express that the two were still keeping pace with despite their conversation. "Wouldn't you like to know, Harry?"

"Yeah, I would! Expelliarmus!" When that spell was batted aside Harry went for a silent Depulso and then followed it with a Blasting Curse. Both were blocked before Voldemort retaliated with the Killing Curse. He swooped down out of sight, only to find that a shadow was flying over him.

Not even looking up, Harry shot upwards, nearly beaning Voldemort. He whipped his wand backwards and released another Disarming Spell.

It either missed or was once again blocked.

"Pitiful, Harry!"

"Aresto Momentum!"

This spell, completely unexpected as it was, hit Voldemort just as he was flying up to meet Harry. It slowed him down, but Harry couldn't stop flying in time to stop the collision. The broom jerked out of his hands and spiraled away to somewhere Harry couldn't see…his face was full of robes and Voldemort's hands.

The two fell hard onto the speeding Hogwarts Express and Harry untangled himself only to find himself clutching at the sides of the train. Voldemort had saved himself as well and was standing up, bracing himself against the wind.

Grunting, Harry cast an adjusted Sticking Charm on his feet that would enable him to keep his balance and move around and stood up as well. Before he could blink, he ducked a green light that was aimed right for his head only to find that a sickly yellow light was zooming towards his face now.

"Protego!" he gasped, hopefully blocking the spell. Thankfully, it fizzled out as it made contact with his shield, but the Killing Curse that was aimed his way wouldn't be deterred.

Whipping his wand in a movement he'd picked up from Minerva days ago, Harry Transfigured the bit of the train he was standing on into quicksand and sank into it, dodging the deadly curse. He promptly Transfigured the metal back into solidity and stood on it, firing back on Voldemort.

He was pitifully outmatched, Harry realized. Voldemort was playing with him.

Harry had just sent another Blasting Curse at the Dark Lord when the bit of train he was standing on was cut with a Diffindo, slicing his feet free and sending him flying through the air.

Where the hell was his broom?

Although Harry's broom didn't appear, someone else stopped his freefall to his death by grabbing him by the neck of his visible robes, as he still had his Invisibility Cloak on.

"Christ, Harry," Severus grunted, adjusting his grip. "Did you have to wear that blasted cloak?"

"It was helping before," Harry gasped, unable to believe that he was still alive for now. "Thanks, Severus."

"Thank me later," Severus snapped, looking up at the Dark Lord flying towards them. "Look alive!"

"Wha – argh!" Harry was thrown to the ground, thankfully only a few feet below him, as Severus did some fancy wand work and delayed Voldemort's arrival for a few precious seconds with a shield.

Harry rolled to a stop on the ground and shakily got to his feet, making sure to deactivate the Sticking Charm as he did. The bit of train he'd ripped off with him he'd lost some hundred feet back.

Severus landed by him next, tossing aside the broom as if it was a mere Shooting Star. "I do hope you have your wand ready."

"He was playing with me!" Harry hissed, keeping his eyes on the Dark Lord. "What makes you think it'll be any better now?"

"You're not alone this time. Keep that shield of yours handy and attack when you can."

True to his word, Severus kept up the offensive while Harry blocked and threw out his own curses. Voldemort found himself hard-pressed to keep them at bay and started dueling even more ferociously.

Amidst the flashes of light from the spell fire, one of Severus's spells suddenly went awry as Voldemort twisted it around and sent it back at him. Severus dodged to the side as Harry's shield wouldn't be enough to block it, almost hitting the ground if it weren't for a Reducto gouging a large hole out of the dirt and knocking him back.

He hit the ground on his back and Harry could see from his ashen face that he'd had the wind properly knocked out of him and couldn't move properly. Desperate, he jumped into the fray against Voldemort and began pulling all his tricks out of his hat.

"Nowhere to go, eh, Harry?" Voldemort hissed.

Harry chanced a glance over his shoulder as he blocked a spell and saw that the train was gone and the Death Eaters and his friends with it. Unfortunately, the blocked spell sent a haze of smoke over the area.

Coughing, Harry used his wand to send a wave of wind through it and cleared the smoke, only to find Voldemort approaching his wayward ex-servant who was still struggling to breathe…or even move for that matter.

Fuck, no! Harry shot a Blasting Curse at Voldemort's feet and threw him over Severus. Using the distraction, he bolted towards Severus and heaved him upright.

Desperate for Severus's and his own lives, Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated, feeling with horror and shock another hand grasp onto his arm just as he was sucked into the tube.

The squeezing and pulling sensation was worse this time as Harry could feel that something was wrong. It felt like something was tearing apart; something undeniably dear to him. At the same time, there was foul magic right by him where Voldemort had clutched his arm.

Instinctively, Harry grabbed the tearing apart feeling and thrust it towards the source of foul magic, flinging Voldemort away as he did. Then, with a ridiculously loud pop, Harry Apparated right onto Hogwarts's grounds in the courtyard. It was the first time he had done so since Minerva had him and his friends keyed into the wards as a result of wartime concessions.

Gasping and finding himself ridiculously lightheaded, Harry released the death grip he had on Severus's arm in favor of heaving up the little breakfast he'd had that particular morning.

When he was done, he looked up to see that Severus had recovered his wind and was staring oddly at a sight a meter away from them. Glancing over himself, Harry found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the strange sight of Voldemort's robed and undeniably splinched arm.

Harry couldn't help but think that he was somehow responsible for this strange state of affairs.

Apparently, so did Severus. "Congratulations, Mr. Potter. I do believe you are the first wizard who managed to successfully cause the Dark Lord to splinch himself."

October 30, 1994

During the week following the eventful night that Harry had gone with Severus to destroy the Horcrux, his time had been occupied with talk of the tournament, the soon-to-arrive foreign students, and research. His classes were ridiculously easy and homework was accomplished in five minutes flat with the nifty charm. All he had to make sure of was that nothing too advanced made its way into his essays.

He hadn't yet been able to get the locket, as Severus had told him after one Potions class that he wasn't fourteen and couldn't go prancing around at all times of the night.

Harry had grinned cheekily at that and said, "No, you're thirty-four and that's not exactly old, Severus. You're in the prime of your life!"

Severus had shot him a scathing look, deducted five points from Gryffindor for good measure, and sent him away.

Joking aside, however, Severus hadn't exactly been idle. Having made note of the fact that Harry wasn't certain of where the cup could be, he'd been doing his own research based on his contacts in the old network of Death Eaters.

"If I could get into Gringotts, I would be able to sense the cup," Harry had said one evening.

"There are millions of powerful artifacts in that bank, Potter. Unless you plan on breaking into Bellatrix's vault again – which I would not condone considering what happened last time – you should scrap any plan that involves actually going into the bank. Unless you tell me that you know how to Apparate inside Gringotts?"

"I'm skilled, Severus, but not that skilled. I don't know of anyone who could Apparate inside Gringotts. Do you?"

"No, Potter. It's called the safest place to store your gold for a reason."

That matter laid to rest, Harry found he really couldn't do anything more on that front. How was he supposed to find out if Bellatrix had the cup in the vault? It had been pure luck last time that they had discovered it and managed to make off with it…on a dragon no less!

So here he was, in the library on the thirtieth of October, studying Runes with the hope that he'd come across something.

Sighing, Harry shoved the latest book he had pulled out back onto the shelf. It was completely over his head and he couldn't ask Hermione for help since she'd want to know why he was interested in Runes and then he'd have to cook up some sort of explanation that didn't make her even more suspicious than she already was.

He loved Hermione, really, but sometimes her cleverness was a hindrance.

The only other option would be Dumbledore, and Harry really didn't want to go that route since he knew the crafty Headmaster would completely upend any and all plans he had. The man hadn't trusted Harry with the prophecy until the end of fifth year when Sirius had been killed. What would make this time any different?

Maybe if he made Fiendfyre dance in front of him? The mental image was amusing.

Controlling Fiendfyre wasn't really that hard once one had the practice. All it required was a certain skill level, power, and strength of will—

"Harry!" Ron's loud voice startled him, and he flicked his wand out before he could help himself. "Hey, Harry…you looking up a spell or something?"

"Err…yeah," Harry said uncomfortably, putting his wand away. "It's for Defense. What'd you want?"

Ron looked scandalized. "What'd I want? Don't you remember? The delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are coming tonight! McGonagall wants everyone outside so we can give them a proper Hogwarts welcome."

"Oh." Harry gave a mental wince as he acknowledged that yes, he had forgotten. Potions had been let out early, meaning Severus couldn't test the antidotes on anybody, and Harry had wandered into the library without thinking.

"What are you doing in the library anyway?" Ron asked, walking with Harry outside. "You've been in there nonstop. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were turning into another Hermione."

"Looking up Potions," Harry said, having already thought of this excuse. In response to Ron's horrified face, he added, "No, really, Ron. It just gives Snape less excuses to pull points off Gryffindor, you know?"

"He hasn't been so bad lately," Ron admitted reluctantly. "But still, mate…Potions?"

"Why not? The stuff might taste disgusting, but there's so much you can do with it! Granted, it's not as quick as Charms, Transfiguration, or Defense but the results can be a lot more rewarding. Look at the Wolfsbane Potion. Wouldn't it be cool to advance that so that werewolves don't have to transform at all?"

Ron had his brow furrowed and Harry wondered if he wasn't perhaps laying it on a bit too thickly. His fears were alleviated when Ron slowly said, "That would be pretty darn cool. Hell…it'd be a lot of studying, though, wouldn't it?"

Harry gave a laugh at that. Only Ron would think of the studying aspect of Potions making.

They met up with Hermione outside, and she handed the boys their hats with a reproving look.

"Really, where would you be if it weren't for me?" Hermione said.

"In second year still," Harry said with a straight face. "Or back in that room with the Devil's Snare."

"You're brilliant, Hermione," Ron input hastily, putting on his hat crookedly.

Minerva promptly called him out. "Mr. Weasley, straighten that hat!"

Scowling, Ron tried to right the sad thing only for it to fall over again. "It won't stand!"

Stifling a snort, Harry pulled his wand out and cast a Freshening Charm on it and then stiffened it. "That should do it."

"You should take better care of your things, Ron," Hermione said half-heartedly, knowing Ron wouldn't listen.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron muttered. "It's all secondhand stuff anyway."

"Which is why it wouldn't straighten," Harry whispered to Hermione as Minerva scolded Parvati for the outrageous design at the end of her plait.

Finally, Minerva called to everyone, "Follow me, please. First years in front…no pushing…"

She led everyone down the stairs and lined them up in front of the castle, where they all fidgeted with excitement.

"Nearly six," Ron said, checking his watch. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," Hermione disagreed.

"Some magical way," Harry suggested seriously, earning himself a disgusted look from Ron.

"'Course it's going to be magical," Ron said. "Are they taking a Portkey? Or maybe even Apparating? Maybe they're allowed to Apparate where they're from even if they're younger than seventeen…"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" Hermione said impatiently.

Harry coughed to hide a laugh. Sure you couldn't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds…unless you had special permission or were the Headmaster.

After several more moments of anxious debating as to how the foreign wizards would be arriving, Dumbledore finally spoke above the din. "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

Peering into the sky, Harry caught sight of the weird looking carriage that the other students made wild guesses about. When it finally swooped over their heads and landed, he let a small smile cross his face at seeing Madame Maxime step out to be greeted by Dumbledore.

Shortly after the delegation from Beauxbatons came, the lake began to bubble and froth, giving way to a giant wooden ship that suddenly rose from the depths.

"Bloody hell!" Ron gaped at the sight.

"Like I said," Harry said smugly, "some magical way."

Ron crossly elbowed Harry in the side but seemed to forget the joke Harry had made to eagerly look over the Durmstrang students. When he saw that Viktor Krum had shown up, Ron began tugging eagerly at Harry's robes.

"Harry, it's Krum!"

"So it is."

"Blimey, I had no idea he was still in school!"

"Just because he's a world famous Quidditch player doesn't mean he doesn't go to school, you know!" Hermione said hotly.

"But he looks so old!"

"Mate, if you're talking about age, look at Dumbledore," Harry said. "Krum's not that old."

"Well…" Ron didn't quite seem to know what to say to that. "You happen to have a quill on you, Harry? I want to get his autograph!"

"Hm…" Harry rummaged around in his robes before he procured a quill. Unfortunately, the nib was broken off and the top part of the feather was missing. "Huh… How long has that been in there?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend's absentmindedness. "Never mind that! Come on; let's go inside."

Harry gave Ron the miserable looking quill and his friend stared glumly at the thing before shaking his head and letting it drift to the floor, forgotten. "He'd have a right ol' laugh at me if I went up with that."

Harry inconspicuously Vanished the quill and caught up with Ron. "Sorry, Ron. Perhaps we could've used Reparo?"

"It was beyond hope," Ron said forlornly. "Think those girls would let me borrow their lipstick?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and lugged him over to the Gryffindor table where Hermione was sitting. "Sit and don't worry. You'll see him around."

"The Beauxbatons girls seem to be a right sorry lot," Hermione said, sounding rather huffy. "It's not that cold. They could have brought cloaks!"

"Durmstrang seems happier," Ron observed, watching as they sat with the Slytherins. "Hey, Harry…think you can get Malfoy to bring Krum over?"

Harry looked over to where Draco was talking with Krum. He caught Draco's eye and the Slytherin paled before ducking his head. Since that day in September when he'd cornered Draco in the middle of the school, Draco had been avoiding him like the plague. It would have been amusing if it wasn't so pathetic.

"Nope. Draco's been avoiding me. It's like I'm contagious or something…"

"Contagious with craziness perhaps," Hermione said, smiling in glee at the fond memory of Harry humiliating him.

"I should probably sit by him during lunch or something," Harry mused thoughtfully. "There's no rule against that as far as I know…"

"I think he'd start avoiding meals altogether if you did that – not that I'm complaining," Ron said. "You notice how he doesn't insult us anymore?"

"He's too scared of Harry," Hermione said, grinning wickedly. She was mercilessly enjoying the bigot's discomfort with this "amnesiac" Harry.

"After all, he's my new buddy," Harry mocked, winking at Ron. All lightheartedness aside, though, he really was trying to make friends with Draco. At the moment, he hadn't had time to befriend him – coughstalkcough – him the way he would've liked, but he was planning on beginning tomorrow.

In the meantime, everyone had settled down and was looking expectantly at Dumbledore, who had remained standing. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – more particularly – guests," he started, beaming at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

There was a derisive laugh from one of the Beauxbatons girls that Harry recognized with a pang as Fleur.

Hermione shot that girl a glare. "No one's making you stay!"

Dumbledore continued, "The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

The elderly wizard took a seat and was promptly engaged in conversation with Igor Karkaroff, who was still a Death Eater to Harry's keen senses.

There was no need to worry about him, since Karkaroff was doubtlessly a coward regardless of the timeline. He would be badgering Severus in no time.

"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing at a large dish that was filled some sort of shellfish stew.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione said.

"Bless you," Ron said.

"It's French," Hermione said, sounding affronted. "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, helping himself to black pudding.

Harry winked at Hermione and took a helping of the bouillabaisse before endeavoring to try some of the other delicacies around them. He enjoyed most of them but steered clear of the escargot; he'd had enough of eating strange animals like snails from the future.

"Ezcuse me," said a voice with a heavy accent. "'Ave you finished ze bouillabaisse?"

Ron gaped at the breathtakingly beautiful visage of Fleur Delacour. "Wha—?"

"Yeah, we've finished," Harry said before his friend could thoroughly embarrass himself more than he already had. He picked the bowl up and handed it to her with a smile. "It was really good. You don't have it at your table?"

Fleur gave Harry an appraising eye. "No, ve do not. Thank you." She took the bowl from Harry and went back to her friends, who were giggling at Harry.

Harry felt himself flush and turned back to the table, seeing that Ron was staring at him, openmouthed. "What?"

"She's not a normal girl!" Ron whispered, glancing back at Fleur, who was now chatting with her friends. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"They make them just fine at Hogwarts," Harry argued, thinking about a certain red-haired beauty. He chanced a glance down the table to where Ginny was sitting and forced himself to keep his mind blank as he found her. He hadn't allowed himself to think once of her aside from passing glimpses because the memories were too painful.

He'd have to deal with it eventually but not now.

"Look who else is here," Hermione whispered, dragging Harry from his thoughts. "It's Mr. Crouch and Ludo Bagman."

Harry glanced up at the staff table and saw that the two organizers of the tournament had indeed taken their seats.

"What are they doing here?" Ron asked.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

"I think they're also judging," Harry said. "We'll probably hear it from Dumbledore soon anyway."

Eventually, as the golden plates were cleaned by the hungry students, Dumbledore stood up again. Everyone promptly hushed and gazed expectantly at him.

Even Harry, who had already gone through this event once before, felt a thrill of excitement. He looked over at Crouch and saw that he seemed to be stiff with anticipation. A glance at Severus showed him trying to look bored. Only the fact that he was tapping his finger on the table showed his unease at being in the midst of Karkaroff, Crouch Sr., and the visage of Moody. Even knowing that Moody wasn't really Moody didn't seem to do much to alleviate his ingrained unease of the ex-Auror.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore announced, smiling. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation"—there was some polite applause—"and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was more applause for Ludo, as he was known as a Beater and was generally more likable than the stern-faced Crouch.

Hermione sniffed once as she looked at the staff table. "He can't even acknowledge his introduction!" She'd meant Crouch Sr. of course.

Harry shrugged. "Just who he is."

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore went on, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

"Blimey, Harry, how'd you know?" Ron whispered as the entire hall seemed to stiffen in anticipation.

"Something I read in the library," Harry whispered back, not catching the strange look Hermione was sending his way.

Dumbledore was smiling as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Having been unnoticed by everyone except for Harry, Filch approached Dumbledore while carrying a large wooden chest that was covered with jewels.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore explained as Filch placed the chest on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore took out his wand, Harry noticing that he was gripping it unusually tightly. Dropping his rigid Occlumency shields slightly, Harry was once again assaulted by the unusual singing noise he'd heard during the Opening Feast. Swallowing, he put his shields up before he pulled his wand out in self-defense as Ron was sitting way too close to him for personal comfort.

The Elder Wand tapped against the casket three times and the lid creaked open. Dumbledore pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup that was full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Closing the cask, the Headmaster placed the goblet on top of it.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore explained into the hush of the Great Hall. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any one of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred said, his eyes glinting as they made their way across the hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing – it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," Hermione said, "we just haven't learned enough…"

"Speak for yourself," George said shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at George. "I'm fourteen," he said slowly. "Why would I want to enter myself in a tournament that Dumbledore specifically said is for wizards who are seventeen and up?"

"You're Harry," George said as if that answered the question.

"Yeah and you're Forge," Harry said, earning himself a mock glare from the Weasley twin. "Just because I went after the stone in first year, fought a basilisk in second year, and did who-knows-what in third year doesn't mean I'm entering myself in this usually deadly tournament. I like my head where it is, thank you very much."

"Harry has the right of it, you know," Hermione said. "It's dangerous!"

Ron wasn't paying any attention to the conversation at all, instead looking for Krum. "Where is he?" he asked anxiously. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

His question was answered as they drew level with the Slytherin table and Karkaroff was gathering his students.

"Back to the ship, then," he was saying. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

As the Death Eater-turned-professor took care of his students, Harry drew back slightly. Occlumency shields or not, he didn't think he could hold his ingrained reflex to attack any and all Death Eaters if he got too close.

When Karkaroff left the Great Hall without any further ado, he heaved a sigh of relief and followed his friends up into the Gryffindor dormitories.

Although Ron wanted to hang around in the common room and talk, Harry dragged him upstairs and inconspicuously put up a silencing ward.

"What do you want?" Ron asked, shaking his arm free from Harry's grip.

"You know I hate my fame, right?" Harry said immediately. "You know that I'd do anything to be rid of it?"

Ron frowned at Harry. "Well…yeah… What of it?"

"If something happened, Ron…something that suddenly put me in the spotlight like second year, would you still stick with me?"

"Harry, you're my best mate—"

Harry was blunt. "I know you're jealous sometimes of what you think is terrific popularity."

Ron made a face but didn't say anything, sensing that now wasn't the time to make objections.

"I have this feeling…something's going to happen. I'm no Seer and you know I think Divination's absolute rubbish but this is a gut feeling telling me that something's going to put me in mortal danger. Since the only thing around that even remotely resembles danger at the moment is the goblet and the tournament, I think something's going to happen tomorrow night. I need to know, Ron, if you'll stick with me…even if my name ends up being pulled from the goblet."

"Are you trying to tell me that you're going to put your name in?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? I hate the fame. Why would I enter in something that would get me even more of the blasted thing? It's just this feeling I have."

Ron studied Harry for a long moment. "I can't promise you that I'll be happy about my best mate being entered in a deadly tournament," he finally said, "but I'll stick by you, Harry."

Harry broke into a relieved grin. "That's great, Ron. Thanks…"

Ron smiled at him, too. "Brilliant. If you're done then, want to go down? I'd like to hear more about what Fred and George are planning on doing. Think they'll manage it?"

"I talked with Ron after we got back to the dorms," Harry informed Severus, leaning back in his armchair. "I think he'll stick around this time."

Severus watched the flames in the grate flicker. "He would have befriended you again regardless after the first task."

"I know but…at the moment it doesn't seem quite real, you know?" Harry murmured. "It's almost like a dream… I can hardly believe everyone's still alive. I can hardly believe Hogwarts is still standing and that Tom isn't raging around like a madman from the Ministry. I see what's happening and I'm reacting but…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, resting it over his scar.

"You have been Occluding?"

"Of course. It's the only way I can even attend classes without flicking out my wand every five seconds."

"The way you have been using it is not what is designed for," Severus said slowly, meeting Harry's eyes. "You are using it to dampen your natural reflexes…dulling the pace of your mind, so to speak. As such, it is no surprise that this seems like a dream to you."

Harry smiled bitterly. "Yeah, well…that'll stop pretty quickly once the tournament's up and running." He looked down at the Marauder's Map in his lap, noting that the small dot labeled Barty Crouch had finished its business in the entrance hall. "Crouch's done with the first step."

"It's the middle of the night."

"Yes, well…he's a sneak. You have the Polyjuice supplies in your stock, right?"

"Despite my better judgment, I have made sure that he will not lack for ingredients," Severus confirmed, sighing.

"Do you know when we can go for that locket?" Harry asked. "We have until June before the final task, but I'd rather take care of it now. I don't feel comfortable leaving the Horcrux lying there."

"Do you suspect that the Dark Lord of your time came back with you?" Severus asked, critically gazing at Harry.

"At the moment, my connection only shows me the Tom of this time. But there's something else…" Harry shook his head. "I only have my suspicions. If the Tom I threw through the veil came back with me, he'll be a spirit at the moment. I'd normally say that he can't do anything, but since this is Tom we're talking about, I'm not going to."

"Very well." Severus looked up at the clock above the mantelpiece, seeing that it read two in the morning. "It is late. I will let you know when Karkaroff has made his move. About the locket, it would be best if we deal with it in the coming weekend. The week is too busy."

"All right." Harry inclined his head and stood up, flipping his Invisibility Cloak's hood over his head and twisting the magic so he turned invisible. "Good night, Severus."

It was only as the door was closing behind him that he heard Severus murmur "Good night" as well. Grinning widely, Harry set off to his dorm.

September 20, 2000

"See if you can splinch anyone else!" Harry flung Ron a furious look. "Really, does he think I knew what I was doing when I did it?"

"Probably not, mate, but he's hoping to recreate it," Ron said, trying to pacify his friend. "I mean, causing You-Know-Who to splinch is pretty damn awesome."

"And the worst of it is that I think I was just trying to keep Severus from splinching," Harry continued. "I can't even remember what exactly I did. It's such a blur—"

"Harry," Ron cut him off. "Look."

Hearing the urgency in Ron's tone, Harry looked to see a lone figure beyond the gates of Hogwarts. In an effort to make out whom exactly it was, Harry focused on it, only to find that he was sensing something Dark and twisted that seemed oddly familiar.

With a gasp, he snapped out of the focus and realized that he knew exactly who it was. "No way," he breathed in astonishment. "It's Malfoy."

"What, are you serious?" Ron grasped Harry by the arm. "How can you tell? I can't even make out who it is, and I have loads better eyesight than you!"

"I don't quite know… I sensed it, I think," Harry tried to explain, frowning. "It's funny… He feels a bit like Severus but not quite. There's one bit in his…aura that resembles something in Severus's and – blimey, how come I never noticed it before? It's the Dark Mark!"

"You're sensing the Dark Mark?"

Harry squinted at Ron. "You're all light and fuzzy…"

Ron seemed bemused and slightly alarmed now. "You all right there, Harry? I think I just heard you say I'm light and fuzzy."

"You don't look it; you feel like you're Light." Harry glanced back at Hogwarts. "It must be the castle. I haven't been out in a while and Hogwarts has so much magic it's blocking me."

"I think you'd better see Poppy, Harry," Ron said, sounding like he was forcefully keeping his tone calm. "Snape did something wrong, I just know he did," he muttered, grabbing Harry's arm and steering him back up the stairs. "Minerva should go see who that is." He threw a glance back at the figure by the gates and pushed Harry through the doors.

Once inside, Harry was accosted by Severus and Filius.

"There you are, Harry!" the diminutive Charms professor said in his high-pitched voice. "Severus and I were just looking for you. We think we might have—"

"You're light and fluffy," Harry cut him off, staring at him. "Almost like…air…"

Filius looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"And you're rather Dark but still Light," Harry told Severus, who had raised an eyebrow. "You've got that same tinge Malfoy does…that Dark Mark…"

"Are you quite all right, Harry?" Severus asked, sharing a look with Ron, who was mouthing "I think he's gone barmy!" at him. "Have we been pushing you too much?"

Harry was studying a stone on the floor, seemingly fascinated by it. "Oh…so that's what the stone actually looks like?"

The other three wizards looked down to see what Harry was marveling at, only to find a rather unremarkable stone.

"Perhaps bed rest?" Filius suggested hesitantly.

Harry was still staring intensely at the stone but was kneeling down and had his hand hovering over it. He gave his fingers a couple of flicks and the other wizards gaped as they saw the stone suddenly twist and writing appear on it.

"My goodness gracious!" Filius squeaked, his eyes popping.

They couldn't ask Harry what he'd done as Minerva hurried into the entrance hall, looking rather stressed. "Someone's at the gates!" she said. "Severus, come with me, will you? You've apparently nothing better to do but stand around."

Slightly recovered, Severus shot Harry an appraising look and swept off behind the Headmistress.

"It's Saturday, isn't it?" Harry asked a stymied Ron, standing up. "What else would he do if he's not teaching Defense?"

Ron gave a startled cough and lifted his gaze from the changed stone. "Err…I don't think she quite meant it like that. You all right, Harry?" he asked tentatively. "You seem…kind of dopey…"

"Do I?" Harry was looking at the doors, not understanding why he was back in Hogwarts. He could sense the magic humming in the school and vibrating through him. There were two Dark signatures right outside of the doors but one of them was one he was intimately familiar with and the other was rather faint, as if the owner was trying to pull away from the Dark.

He opened the doors before Ron or Filius could stop him and found himself staring directly into Malfoy's face. Draco Malfoy looked absolutely terrible, which was saying a lot as he was normally impeccably groomed.

Minerva recovered from her shock to purse her lips disapprovingly. "Harry, if you would step aside."

"Blimey, Harry was right?" Ron couldn't believe his eyes. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered but it was a halfhearted effort at best.

Minerva gazed disapprovingly at Ron over her spectacles. "That is what we expect to find out, Ronald. Come with me, Mr. Malfoy."

As Minerva swept off with Malfoy and Severus in tow, Ron whispered to Harry, "You know, it was worse when she was still calling me Mr. Weasley. Ronald makes it seem so much more informal."

"But it's worse at the same time," Harry murmured, blinking rapidly as he focused on the signatures of the Dark Mark. It was a heady feeling, as if he wasn't quite in his body, but it was fading rapidly. He was feeling almost normal now. "I'm going to follow."

Before Ron could object, Harry had retraced the steps the other three had taken moments before. The red-haired wizard shook his head and ran after his friend, leaving Filius behind and still gaping at the stone on the ground, which now bore intricate marking reading

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Founded by Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff

In the meantime, Harry and Ron had caught up with Minerva and Severus, who was keeping a hand on Malfoy's arm. Malfoy's wand was currently residing in Severus's robe pocket.

"Did I say that you two could follow us?" Minerva said sternly.

"No but you didn't say that we couldn't," Harry said, glancing at Malfoy. "Besides, I have a vested interest in him. Narcissa Malfoy saved my life."

"Much good that did, Potter," Malfoy grumbled quietly, though his tone didn't hold the usual malice.

Harry waited until they were in the Headmistress's office to ask, "What did you mean by that comment back there? What happened?"

Malfoy slumped in the chair he was seated in, his face inexplicably weary. "Damn it, Potter, do you have any idea what it's been like since the Dark Lord rose again? My father and mother betrayed him; he doesn't forget such an action." His pale eyes flickered over to Severus and back to Harry. "He was ridiculously gleeful after he destroyed the Burrow"—Ron flinched at the memory—"and came to our home next. And do you know what he did then?"

"No," Harry said, although he had a sick feeling settling in his stomach.

"Right, of course you don't. He took my parents and turned them into servants. He almost did me as well but since I was apparently still loyal to him I was of some use." Malfoy's face was ashen. "Then something happened this year on the first of September. He came back, absolutely furious and missing an arm. He decided he didn't have any use for my family anymore and killed my mother and father right in front of me. I barely managed to get out by Disapparating. He'd forgotten that the wards allow Malfoys to Apparate on the grounds."

"A very interesting story, Malfoy," Severus said scornfully, "but that fails to answer the question of why you came to Hogwarts."

"Isn't it obvious?" Malfoy asked. "I don't want in with…with him. I thought I did, though…at first. I didn't have much of a choice." His right hand convulsively gripped his left forearm.

"So you want sanctuary," Harry guessed. "Here at Hogwarts?"

Malfoy looked relieved. "Yes."

"Tell us why."

"What?"

"Tell us why we should give it to you," Harry said sharply. "Your mother's the one who helped me and that was only because of her loyalty to you and your father. What makes you think we'll help you? Why should we even believe that you've deserted the bastard?"

Malfoy swallowed. "I hate him," he whispered, balling his hands into fists. "He killed my parents and laughed about it. He would've killed me, too, if I hadn't gotten away. Why would I follow someone like that?

"As for your other question…I'm willing to fight if I have to."

"You?" Ron barked a bitter laugh. "You're a bloody coward."

Malfoy's pale eyes glittered furiously. "I'm no coward, Weasley. I'm a Slytherin. We know better than to charge in ahead without knowing what we're getting into. Although," he admitted quietly, "I did just that when I became one of his."

"Look at me," Severus ordered.

Malfoy did, his eyes locking with Severus's black ones. In a moment, he looked away, blinking.

Severus caught Harry's emerald gaze and nodded sharply. It would seem that Malfoy was sincere.

Harry shared a glance with Minerva, who nodded after a short moment, before he turned to Malfoy and took a deep breath. "All right then, Malfoy. You're in."