A/N: Once again, thanks to Seel'vor for betaing for me. This wouldnt be nearly as good without him.


Harry finished brewing the Animagus Revealer potion that Saturday afternoon, and gave it to his sister. Holly looked critically at the potion, which looked a bit like watered-down grape juice, then back at her brother sceptically. "This is it?" she asked.

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Yes." he said impatiently. "What's wrong?"

His sister shrugged. "I didn't expect it to be... I don't know, so lacklustre." she explained. She popped open the flask and took a sniff of the violet liquid before recoiling. "It reeks..."

"What did you expect? It's a potion, after all." Harry said with a smirk. If Holly thought the potion stank, he couldn't wait to see her reaction to how it tasted. "You ready to drink it?"

Holly nodded so fast that Harry thought he heard her neck pop. He guided her up to the Room of Requirement so she could go through the transformation uninterrupted. Also, since she would have the mindset of the animal she turned into for the first few minutes of the transformation, the Room would come in handy for keeping her contained, especially if she should change into an apex predator. Harry didn't fancy being chased around and eaten by his sister-the-lion.

His sister downed the potion as soon as Harry had shut the door, and her face twisted into a grimace of disgust. "Ugh, that tastes worse than Uncle Sirius' cooking..." she moaned. Harry, never having had the dubious honour of tasting his Godfather's cooking, couldn't relate to that comment. He was, however, able to relate to the horrible pain Holly found wracking her body almost immediately after drinking the potion.

As luck would have it, Holly wasn't an apex predator. She was an African gazelle, and the moment she transformed, she bolted away from Harry and into the corner. Harry required the room to be a bit longer so his sister could heed her instincts and get away from him. Five minutes later, Holly came prancing back toward him, her eyes shining with excitement. "Fun, huh?" Harry asked. Holly nodded and continued to prance about. "Get used to how being a gazelle feels, Holly. It'll help when you try changing on your own later." He couldn't resist adding the jab, "Looks like you get to be Prongslet now."

Holly continued to prance about happily, and Harry resisted the urge to change into a wolf and run with his sister. He remembered his and Hermione's experiences with the potion and recalled how, while he was an animal for that first few minutes, his wolf instincts mingled with his human intellect. It wouldn't do to spook his sister anymore. Eventually, the potion wore off and Holly staggered back over to Harry. "Takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" he asked mirthfully. He required a squashy armchair for his sister to collapse in, which she did gratefully, making sure to leave room for him.

Holly looked like she wanted to slap him but was too tired to do so. "You could have warned me about that. The taste of the potion, too." she groused. Harry just smiled and rubbed the tenseness out of his sister's shoulders. She sighed contentedly. "What was that, anyway, after I first transformed? I was so scared of you."

"You gain instincts from your form." Harry said simply while Holly continued to melt in his hands. "I'm willing to bet you thought I was a predator, since my Animagus form is a wolf, and you felt compelled to run."

"But you're my brother." Holly said half-heartedly. She was clearly exhausted. Harry just continued rubbing her shoulders and upper back until she fell asleep.


The rest of the month of September was rather tame except for the horrible anticipation of the tournament. Sirius was a bit disappointed that Harry had turned down his invitation. He understood the need for secrecy and insisted that Harry and Hermione go running next month. Harry neglected to mention that his sister may be an Animagus by the next full moon. It wasn't that he thought his godfather would be upset that he had corrupted his sister. No, it was that Sirius, much like Ron, couldn't keep a secret for the life of him. Harry was a bit leery that Sirius might spill to his father about his wolf form, but figured he could wiggle his way out of it.

Despite Harry's stomach being in knots, he still managed to pull off his classes within the skill they thought of him, or in the case of Herbology, passably. Professor Sprout was still concerned with his sudden regression in her class, but seemed to accept his excuse that his job interests had changed. His other teachers, Moody especially, couldn't stop singing his praises. The only real exception to this was Snape, who was being just as caustic and nasty as ever.

Harry visited his mother a few times, too. She was pleased and proud that, despite the first two pranks at the start of the term, Harry was seemingly growing up. Harry had managed to wheedle a bit of information from her. Evidently, in his first three years, Harry was a bit of a hellion. He had, at the very least, one prank a week going, and Lily only hoped that Harry's new found maturity would continue. He found that he rather liked visiting his mother. She was very friendly, despite Harry being her son, and always welcomed her children into her personal quarters for tea and biscuits. Harry found that he could talk to his mother about anything, she would listen attentively and offer good advice.

One thing that Harry needed to cover quickly was how he had met Hermione. He had told his friends that they had met over the summer, but as far as Lily knew, Harry had spent the summer at home. He quickly wove another 'little white lie' about meeting on the train and becoming smitten. Lily seemed to humour him, but didn't hold any faith in the relationship holding for very long. Harry just hoped that his friends and his mother never conferred with each other.

Another thing Harry discovered was that he was undergoing a personality shift, specifically, his impulse control seemed to be slipping. Much like his visit to the chamber, and the tales he was spinning around himself, he seldom stopped to think about what he was doing. His years of Auror training had taught him to think everything through before acting, but in this time and place, he wasn't thinking at all.

It didn't take him long to pinpoint the cause: he was fourteen again, and had another few years of puberty to look forward to. His hormones were running rampant, racing through his body like lightning, and this announced itself in his eyes demanding that he stare at every shapely pair of breasts that crossed his path (and in a school full of witches, there were plenty of shapely pairs available to ogle). No, he was emotional and hormone driven once again. He made a mental note to remember to think things through before acting from here on out.

Hormonal imbalances would probably explain the personality changes he saw in his fiancée, too. Before they passed through the veil, she'd been laid back, calm and collected, but now, she seemed to have reverted back to her old teenaged self; figuratively and literally. While that wasn't necessarily a bad thing (she'd been cool in school), it was a little disorienting as he struggled to get himself settled in this world. He resolved to talk to her about it and see if she had noticed it too. It sure as hell wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to, and with damned good reason.

One weekend in the middle of September, he dragged Hermione into the Room of Requirement and sat her down. He figured that he should have thought this through a bit more (yet another example of his impulse control slipping), but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what to say. So he surged on. "We... we need to talk." he said.

Hermione sat contritely, and a bit fearfully, on the same burgundy two-seater couch they usually required and watched as Harry paced back and forth. His hands were clenching and unclenching; a habit of his when he was nervous. "A-about what?" she asked.

Harry stopped his circuit and turned to face her. "Us." he said. Hermione's face turned the colour of mashed potatoes and Harry quickly corrected himself. "No, no, no... I don't mean our relationship. I love you. I always will and you know that."

Hermione's face regained a bit of colour. "What then?" she said a bit defensively.

"That!" Harry said, pointing at her suddenly. "Right there. I want you to think, really think, about the last time you snapped at me like that before we went through the veil."

Hermione sucked her bottom lip in while she thought. Then she gasped. "Oh..." she said quietly. "At the end of sixth year. I'm so sorry, Harry. I don't know what's come over me."

Harry nodded. "Exactly." he said softly. He sat down next to her and pulled her close. "Neither did I until today. I've been snappish and horribly impulsive lately. You're a smart witch; what's changed since then?"

Hermione leaned into Harry's embrace, once again filling Harry's senses with the smell of her shampoo, and pondered. "Well... we grew up for one and..." she paused. "We're teenagers again. Bloody hormones. Bollocks..."

"Yeah." Harry said with a nod. "Bloody puberty... again. Of all the things we may have to do over, that is the thing I'm most dreading."

Hermione giggled in spite of it all. "Just so long as you promise not to get all broody and angry like you did in fifth year, I promise to watch my temper, too." she said.

Harry made a show of crossing his arms and huffing angrily. "No one understands me." he mocked. Hermione playfully shoved him away.


When the nineteenth came around, Harry decided to do something special for Hermione's birthday. He wanted to see just how versatile the Room of Requirement was and recreated their little Italian bistro in the room. Unfortunately, the room couldn't create food, but the house elves were more than willing to help. Hermione was very pleased, but still half-heartedly scolded Harry for using the elves, at least until he gave her his gift.

The day before, Harry had taken his winnings from the bet at the World Cup, snuck off school grounds and apparated to a little known book shop he had discovered a year ago in magical Dublin, Ireland. The last time he had visited, the owner of the shop, a man named Mickey O'Toole, had boasted that he had once owned an original handwritten copy of J.R.R. Tolkien's 'The Hobbit' but had sold it just two months prior. On a whim, Harry had decided to visit the shop, in the hopes that the old shopkeeper still had it. His luck held out and the old man did. The price was a bit steep at G250, but worth every Knut for Harry to see the look on Hermione's face.

Hermione unwrapped the book-shaped package with a slightly disappointed look on her face. "Oh, Harry, you shouldn't have," she started, then her breath hitched and her eyes bugged out as she saw the book. She gingerly opened the cover and nearly broke down in tears she was so excited. "Oh my god!"

Harry was caught completely unprepared as Hermione required an air-tight plastic case to put the book in, and then flung herself at Harry, upsetting the dining table. She smothered him in kisses, muttering, "Thank you," over and over.

"I'm glad you like it, love." Harry said.

Hermione showed just how much she loved the book, and Harry left the room with a dazed, silly grin on his face that evening, which lasted for several days.


Operation: Midas' Touch – Slytherin Edition™ finally winded down around the third week of September. To Harry's and the Neo-Marauders' glee, some of the stickers had held the enchantment for much longer than the estimated week. By the end of the prank, Neville was a nervously gibbering wreck, refusing to go anywhere on his own, and casting furtive and suspicious glances at any and everything inside the castle. Harry thought Moody would be proud of Neville's healthy dose of paranoia. Despite Neville's petulant insistence that the prank was Harry and the Neo-Marauder's doing,(which was entirely true), the 'Brat-Who-Lived' and his crony Ron pretty much ignored Harry, save for a few nasty looks during class.

As for Mad-Eye, the grizzled old man had taken to keeping both eyes on Harry whenever they were in the same room. The Master Auror had revealed to the class that he would be teaching the fourth-years basic duelling techniques and started teaching them basic spells like Stupefy, Impedimenta, and Expelliarmus. Harry wondered why they were learning those spells at such a later stage of their school career, but remembered that Lockhart had never held the duelling club.

Harry visited the basilisk once more before she died. He was rather saddened to see such a magnificent serpent pass away. She thanked him once again for taking care of her hatchling, and Harry felt immensely guilty for even considering disposing of the egg. Once he'd bid her a final goodbye, he went about casting preservation charms around the area, to keep her body fresh for when he could get back to harvest it, or bury her like she deserved.

Her egg had started making small chirping and rustling noises as the baby basilisk moved about inside. It served to remind Harry that he needed a more secure place to keep it, but he was drawing a blank at exactly what a secure place to keep a baby basilisk would be. He didn't think he could keep anything living in the Room of Requirement, but decided it wouldn't hurt to check. He find it endlessly amusing that he and Hermione were using the RoR more for regular things that they did during Umbridge's reign of terror in his fifth year.

The room was able to create a passable imitation of a large snake's den, complete with a nest made of rotting foliage (what was unpleasantly fragrant). He secured the egg in the nest and cast a few warming charms on the leaves before leaving. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he could still require a place to meet with Hermione or his sister. The room would simply create another room off the one he was in that led into the snake den.


The month of October seemed to be the month for Animagi. The twins, using the traditional method of meditation, discovered their forms on the first of the month. They both were pygmy marmosets, and almost immediately started scheming ways to use their forms for pranks. Dean still didn't have a good grasp on his form yet, but Harry didn't want to give in and give him a potion. The potion was somehow sacred to him; only sharable with those he was close to.

Holly managed her first full transformation that weekend and tried to pressure Harry into going on a run with their father and Sirius that Saturday night. Harry still wasn't quite ready to answer the questions that his father was sure to ask, but told Holly that she was welcome to go anyway. She opted out, saying that it wouldn't be the same without her brother.

Perhaps the most... unsettling thing that happened during October was Michelle stepping up her attempts to get Harry to 'notice her'. Harry knew the girl had a crush on him, much like he'd known about Ginny's in his original world. And much like it happened previously, he hoped that by ignoring her Michelle would give up and move on. Unfortunately, however, Michelle was nothing if not persistent. She was also a Black, and like her father, she was much smarter than most people gave her credit for. She started sitting next to him in the Great Hall at meals, bringing Luna with her. She would sit as close to Harry as she could and despite her near constant blush, made every attempt to carry on conversations with Harry.

Harry was becoming increasingly frustrated with the girl's attempts to gain his affection. Hermione seemed to find it particularly amusing when Harry pleadingly looked to Luna, of all people, for help.


Monday the twenty-seventh was when everything went tits up. Harry remembered that this was the date the notice went up, proclaiming that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang student would arrive on the thirtieth. Sure enough, just like before, the castle was abuzz with the news. But something was strange with the talk amongst the students. No-one seemed to be mentioning the French school. They were all talking about Durmstrang, sure, but more than once Harry heard something about 'Americans'.

Harry decided to go check the flyer for himself. Sure enough, the notice had changed.

"Salem?" Harry exclaimed. More than a few students turned to look at his outburst. The notice listed Salem Witches Institute in place of Beauxbatons. Hermione tried to shush him but Harry went on, albeit a bit quieter. "What happened to Beauxbatons?"

Another student (Harry thought he was a Ravenclaw 7th year) still heard him and answered. "I heard from my father in the Ministry that they cancelled." he said.

Harry floundered a bit for what to say, too many thoughts running through his mind. "But I thought that the Tri-Wizard Tournament was for the three top European schools. Why Salem?" he asked.

Hermione corrected him, much to his consternation. "It is for the top three magical schools, Harry." she said. "Any other school is welcome to register, but only three are picked."

No-one seemed to know just what the criteria were to be picked for the tournament. Harry sincerely doubted that the International Confederacy of Warlocks looked at how safe a school was, otherwise Hogwarts wouldn't have stood a snowball's chance in hell. Ever. He pulled Hermione out of the crowd and into a secluded corner. "Why Salem?" he asked.

"I don't know, Harry!" Hermione snapped. "Maybe they came in fourth or something, just after Beauxbatons."

Harry shook his head impatiently. "No, I don't mean that. I mean, why not Beauxbatons? What changed? Everything we know, all that knowledge we were counting on is now down the crapper."

Hermione's stormy indignant expression softened. "Harry," she said softly, "everything we knew changed the moment we got here. We both have siblings, Neville is the 'Boy-Who-Lived', Voldemort got his body back three years ago… need I go on?"

Harry knew that she was right, much as he hated to admit it. He sighed heavily and leaned on her. "No... no, you don't." he said. "It's just... I don't know where to go from here."

Harry relaxed into Hermione's hug and enjoyed the sensation of her rubbing his back. "We've always been good at improvising, Harry." she said. "We can do it again." Harry smiled at her and she smirked deviously at him. "I just thought you were looking forward to seeing a certain half-Veela again."

Harry faked (sort of) being affronted. "As if!" he exclaimed. "What, are you jealous on that certain half-Veela?"

He got a raspberry for that comment. "You wish, Potter. Besides," Hermione sniffed disdainfully, "she can't compete with my beauty."


The next day, Snape finally pushed Harry far enough to make good his threat about poisoning the Potion Master.

The greasy man stalked about the dungeons surveying the students' potions. He was being unusually quiet... that is, until he got to Hermione and Harry's table. They were still covering poisons and had moved on to certain potions that could be used as a poison; today was the Draught of Dementia. The completed potion was supposed to be a murky green colour, and Harry and Hermione's was spot on. Snape stopped and peered into their cauldron. "Ten points from Gryffindor for cheating!" he said before stalking away.

To keep from saying something that would get him in trouble, Harry gritted his teeth so hard he was surprised that he didn't break one. Hermione, however, didn't seem to have that compunction. "That is completely unfair." she said.

Snape stopped and turned around. "Do you plan on arguing with me, Granger?" He snarled. "It wasn't my decision to let you into my class. If it had been up to me, you, and anyone like you, wouldn't even be attending this school."

It was clear to both Harry and Hermione what Snape really meant. Hermione's face turned red with the effort not to tear into the Professor, but it she didn't hesitate to rip Malfoy a new one when he snickered. "No-one asked your opinion, you ferret-faced, inbred freak!" She snarled. A brief crackle of magic arced down her arms in response to her anger. This time it was Malfoy's turn to get red faced with anger.

The class was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Then Snape smiled, and Harry winced. He knew what that smile meant. "Detention, Granger." Snape said silkily. "Tonight, after dinner."

Hermione looked mutinous and ready to cry. Harry wanted nothing more than to kill the greasy man, ideally painfully, publically and as humiliatingly as possible. He leaned over, keeping his eyes on Snape who had resumed stalking the classroom, and whispered to Hermione. "I'll get him back. Don't worry about the detention."

Harry managed to procure a Muggle horse laxative from one of the lower year Muggleborn students. Why said boy had Muggle horse laxatives was beyond him (and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know either), but it suited his purposes. He went down to the kitchens and found the same elf that had helped him with the start of term prank. "Sparky?" he asked the small elf. Sparky looked at him attentively. "I need you to do me a favour. Can you crush these pills up and put them in Professor Snape's drink tonight?"

The elf took the laxative from Harry and looked at it curiously. "What is it?" she asked.

Harry knew he had to lie, since the elves wouldn't, and couldn't for that matter, knowingly harm a teacher. "It's a special medicine for Professor Snape's stomach, which'll help him purge his system. Madame Pomfrey asked me to give it directly to the Professor, but he doesn't like me and won't take it from me."

The elf suddenly looked very intense. She nodded fiercely. "Professor Snapey needs to take his medicines. Sparky will make sure he gets it."

Unable to contain his mirth, Harry started guffawing while he thanked the elf.


That night at dinner, Harry couldn't take his eyes off of Snape. His friends and fellow Neo-Marauders seemed to pick up on the mood, inquiring as to what was going on. Harry huddled them in the middle of the table and told them what he did. Dean winced painfully in sympathy, while the twins and his sister started to laugh. Secretly, Harry expected Hermione to tear him a new one for the 'prank', but he was pleasantly surprised when she smiled vindictively. Their dinner all but forgotten in light of the evening 'entertainment', the five of them turned their attention back to the staff table. Harry's anticipation grew as Snape picked up his goblet.

Snape seemed to be able to feel the eyes on him and he glowered down at Harry. Harry smirked nastily back up at him, making the greasy man pause. He cast a few detection charms over his food and drink, frowning as they presumably came up negative. Harry glanced over at the Headmaster, who seemed to be as amused as he was. Dumbledore winked at him.

Harry watched gleefully as Snape took a tentative sip of his drink and, not finding anything wrong, took a few deeper drinks. Snape glanced at him smugly and Harry returned the look. "Ten minutes or so." he said to the rest of the table.

Sure enough, almost ten minutes later, Snape's abdomen rumbled ominously. His eyes bugged comically as he dashed out of the Great Hall.

Hermione got an owl later that evening telling her that the detention had been cancelled.


The next morning, Snape grabbed Harry and pulled him into an abandoned classroom, pushing him roughly away once he shut the door. Harry turned to the irate man, who had his wand out and levelled straight at him. "I'm sorry, Snivellus, but I just don't like you that way." he said flatly.

"Don't be smart with me, Potter!" Snape growled.

"Oh, that's right. Smart wouldn't work on you. You understand stupid a whole lot better, don't you?" Harry shot back. He didn't know why he was provoking Snape. Probably had something to do with the lack of impulse control he was experiencing lately... yeah, that'd do as an excuse. After all, the man had his wand out and pointing at Harry and Harry could almost smell the rage rolling off of him, over the grease, anyway.

Snape ignored that jab and stepped closer to Harry, close enough to poke him in the chest with the wand. "You think you can poison me and get away with it?"

"Who says I poisoned you?" Harry asked calmly. He wanted nothing more than to pull his wand out and curse the man, but he kept his head... for the moment.

"I know it was you, Potter!" Snape seethed.

"I'm not saying it wasn't me." Harry retorted. "I said, 'Who says I poisoned you?'"

Snape's pale face flushed red and he shot an unrecognisable purple curse at Harry. Harry managed to sidestep the curse, then wandlessly disarmed Snape and banished him against far wall, hard. Harry neatly caught the airborne wand and stalked up to Snape as he slumped against the wall. Snape's eyes were wide with panic as Harry pressed his own wand to the greasy man's throat.

Harry was incandescent with rage. "While I don't know just what that curse was, I do know it was dark." he said dangerously. "I could have you arrested for attacking me, but I'm a better man than you, Snivellus."

"You're just as arrogant as your father!" Snape hissed.

Harry's eyes flashed and he pressed Snape's wand hard against the man's larynx making him choke. "I am nothing like my father." Harry hissed back. Green sparks spit from the end of Snape's wand. "My father saved your worthless skinny hide from Remus. I, on the other hand, won't hesitate to kill you should you come after me again."

He pulled the wand from Snape's throat and backed away, throwing the wand into the far corner. "I would suggest you back off of Hermione as well. And reel in your stupid godson too."

Harry threw open the door but stopped when Snape snapped, "I will have you expelled for this, Potter!"

"Bring it on, you greasy shit." Harry whispered menacingly. "I dare you."

As Harry left the class room, slamming the door behind him, he thought, Fuck me. I could have handled that a whole lot better. God damned hormones...


Hermione seemed to pick up on Harry's horrid mood in Charms and tried to comfort him, but Harry was inconsolable. The adrenaline from his encounter with Snape was still pounding through his veins and wreaking havoc with his magic. He over-summoned the cushion and watched impassively when it exploded in a burst of feathers against the wall behind him, imagining it to be Snape's head.

How was he going to clear this up?


As it turned out, Harry didn't have to do anything. It seemed that Snape was unwilling to go to the Headmaster with their altercation, instead deciding on trying to kill Harry with his eyes every time they encountered each other. Harry was fine with that. Maybe now Snape would at least respect him.

Thursday came round, as it was prone to do, and with it the arrival of the Salem and Durmstrang students. Harry was more excited this time than he was the first time the students had arrived. He was curious about the Salem students. Everyone had gathered out in the courtyard to watch the other schools arrive. Durmstrang arrived first in their ship, which surfaced from the depths of the black lake like before. While the other students applauded and talked about the grand entrance, Harry simply wondered if the boat had angered the Merfolk.

About fifteen minutes later, Harry heard a long, haunting train whistle, prompting the rest of the students to quiet. Most of them glanced down the main drive towards Hogsmeade to see if the Salem students were arriving by train, but Harry, and a few others, looked westward over the large Hogwarts lawn, where a set of ghostly train tracks were seemingly growing in the direction of the castle, followed by a thick fog. The tracks ended in the middle of the lawn and a ghostly platform appeared in the mist. Another long, mournful whistle sounded across the grounds and a few students shivered, including Hermione. As Harry wrapped his arms around her, he couldn't help but feel impressed.

Salem had a ghost train.

Soon enough, the clattering of the coupling rods driving the wheels echoed up from the valley and Harry could hear the steam engine puffing along. It was followed by the shrieking of the brakes as the train ground to a halt. As the mist cleared, Harry could clearly see a gleaming black engine, pulling two cars behind it. The train had sort of an ethereal quality to it, but looked nothing like a ghost. Of course it wouldn't. Harry thought sardonically. If it were actually ghost like, no-one would be able to sit in it.

Durmstrang's entrance into Hogwarts went pretty much like it did the last time, with Ron drooling pathetically over Viktor Krum. Harry made a mental note to rib Ron about that at a later date. Like before, they had mostly male students, and only a smattering of females. The biggest difference though was this time, Karkaroff had a falcon riding on his shoulder. He felt a bit of an idiot for pointing it out to Hermione, but she seemed just as interested as Harry was. In the Wizarding world, an animal could be just about anything... or anyone. And Harry didn't recall Karkaroff having a bird with him the last time.

Harry glanced at Moody, who was boring holes through Karkaroff with his magical eye. His good eye, however, was still squarely on Harry. For a silly moment, Harry wanted to see if he could unnerve the grizzled Auror by staring directly back at him, but squashed that urge in favour of studying the falcon on Karkaroff's shoulder. The bird seemed unnaturally alert, and was scanning the crowd of students before its gaze settled on Neville. What unnerved Harry more was when the bird turned and looked directly at him.

Next came the Salem students, and contrary to popular belief, the Witches Institute wasn't an all girl school. It was co-ed, though primarily witches, while Durmstrang was primarily wizards. Whereas Durmstrang came marching orderly in, all students wearing blood red robes trimmed with fur, Salem seemed to be the exact opposite. The students were chatting animatedly among themselves, many pointing at things in the Great Hall. They also weren't wearing uniforms; instead, they were wearing normal Muggle clothing. One girl with red hair, who reminded Harry of an older and prettier Ginny, winked at Harry.

Salem's Headmistress was a middle aged blonde woman with kind brown eyes. She was dressed in a casual grey suit with a pink shirt and black tie, looking for all the world a normal Muggle principal. She walked up and greeted Dumbledore warmly, giving the old man a friendly hug. Dumbledore introduced Durmstrang to polite applause (slightly happier from the Slytherins) then Salem. The headmistress was named Professor Jacquelyn Munroe and she thanked Hogwarts for their hospitality.


After dinner, Harry dragged Hermione up to the Room of Requirement, as was becoming habit, for a talk. He wanted to know what to do when Neville's name came out of the goblet, but it seemed Hermione had become a master Legilimens and she beat him to the punch. "What should we do about Neville?" she asked.

Harry blinked bemusedly before grinning. "Quit reading my mind, woman!" he ribbed.

Hermione grinned back. "There's not much there anyway."

"Oi, you'll pay for that one!" Harry protested. "But seriously, what are we going to do?"

Hermione sat on the two-seater couch that appeared in the room and worried her lower lip while she thought. Harry started pacing. "Maybe... we shouldn't do anything," Hermione suggested after a while. Harry looked at her like she was crazy. "We don't know for sure that Neville's name is going to come out of the goblet anyway."

Harry scowled. "Right. With my luck, it'll be my name."

"You know that's not what I meant, Harry." Hermione said calmly.

"Then what did you mean?"

Hermione sat up a bit straighter. "I mean, according to the vision you saw, Riddle wants either you or Neville, but so far, we haven't been able to determine who his plant in the whole organisation is. You're adamant that it isn't Moody-"

"It's not Moody." Harry interrupted. Hermione ignored him and continued.

"But we don't know for sure. Then we have Karkaroff and his mysterious falcon." she said. "There's also anyone from Salem. We don't know any of them."

"Don't forget Snape." Harry reminded. The attack the other night had settled badly on his mind. He and Hermione both agreed to keep a closer eye on the greasy haired man. "He is way more violent here than he ever was before. For all we know, he might still be a Death Eater. He might not be Albus' spy."

They were both silent while they thought. After a few minutes Hermione said, "You could always warn the headmaster."

Harry sighed exasperatedly. "That is the second time you have suggested that, and it's still a bad idea." Harry said. "It'll raise all kinds of questions that we really don't want to answer just yet."

Hermione frowned and went back to pondering. "I could always put my name in myself." Harry said. "It wouldn't be hard to get past the age line, and I remember how Crouch fooled the goblet last time."

"Think about what you're saying, Harry." Hermione said. "Do you really want to go through all that shite... again?"

Harry had to admit that she was right. He really didn't want to go through the tournament again. Then again, if it'd been his choice, he wouldn't have gone through the tournament the first time. As the 'Boy-Who-Lived', he had more fame than 'eternal glory', and he could lose a thousand galleons down the back of the couch without noticing. He shook his head. "No, I don't." he said, voicing his thoughts. "But, as much of a ponce as this Neville is, I wouldn't wish the tournament on him. Not even he deserves that. Malfoy maybe... but not Neville."

An idea occurred to Harry. "What if I just pulled his name out of the goblet?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "You can't."

"I can't? Just like that? Why not?"

"Harry, simply having your name put in the goblet constitutes a binding contract saying that you wish to enter the tournament." she said. Harry was about to say something about not putting your own name in but Hermione continued. "It doesn't matter if you put your name in or not."

"And I still think that's bloody stupid." Harry huffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We both know there's a lot about the magical world that's stupid, but I met you here, so it has some worth." she said fondly. She reached out and pulled Harry down on to the couch with her and cuddled up next to him. "Maybe we should just help Neville when, and if, his name is spit from the cup."

Harry leaned back against the back rest and felt Hermione follow him, pillowing her head on his chest. "Again, more questions that I'm not ready to answer."

"What else can we do, Harry?"

Harry ran his fingers through his fiancée's hair. "I don't know, 'Mione. I don't know..."


The Goblet of Fire was set up in the Entrance Hall early the next morning. All the Hogwarts students who were of-age and who had submitted their names to their heads of house had queued up to put their slip of parchment in first thing. Throughout the day, students from both Durmstrang and Salem put their names in the cup. Harry had another encounter with the red-haired witch from Salem, who seemed to really like him. She smiled at him and introduced herself as Stephanie Brewer. She was from New York and was excited to be in England for the first time. Harry smiled politely and introduced himself, then Hermione, who was standing off to the side with her lips pursed and eyes narrowed, looking very jealous. He made it very clear that Hermione was his girlfriend, and once he'd said that, Stephanie seemed to lose some of her friendliness.

Krum put his name in the goblet just after lunch, to raucous applause from most everyone watching. Harry wondered, with everything that was different, if Krum would actually get picked this time. For that matter, he wondered if Cedric would be Hogwarts champion this time. Word around the castle was that he was planning to or had already submitted his name. His housemates were encouraging, but Harry hoped that Cedric's name wouldn't be chosen. He knew it was a stupid hope, as whomever the goblet selected as his alternate would be in just as much potential danger as Cedric, but the hope was still there.

The next day went quickly and smoothly. Even in Potions, Snape studiously ignored Harry, not even deigning to take points from him for blatantly talking with Hermione. That didn't stop the greasy haired git from still trying to shoot AKs from his eyes at him, but Harry figured that Snape would never like him. Even after the mutual respect Snape had gained for Harry in the other dimension, the potion master never liked Harry.

One thing Harry couldn't figure out about Snape, and he certainly tried, was just why Snape seemingly hated him more here than he did back in the original dimension. Harry remembered that Snape and his mother were friendly, if not outright friends, in their early years at Hogwarts, up to the incident after their OWLs. That Snape saw Harry as everything that he'd wanted, been denied and certainly hated Harry for it.

Did this Snape perhaps see Harry the same way, only worse since Lily was still alive? Harry didn't even know if Snape was a spy, or how Snape and his mother got along here. He had never seen them interact with each other.


After dinner, it was time to choose the Tri-Wizard champions.

All the students and staff gathered in the Great Hall. The staff table had been removed, and the Goblet of Fire sat proudly on its pedestal at the head of the room, mystical blue flames dancing around its rim. Everyone was breathlessly silent with anticipation as they waited for the British Ministry representatives to arrive and call out the names. Harry could feel the energy and excitement in the air. He glanced over at Hermione, who was throwing looks of pity at Neville. This reality's 'Boy-Who-Lived' caught a few of her glances and looked back with utter confusion.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered if the tasks in this tournament would even be the same. Hermione told him that the tasks changed every year, but there was still a chance that the tasks would be the same as before. That meant he could see the dragons again, possibly the same Horntail that he had faced before. He smirked when the thought occurred to him that the dragon might want to talk to him instead of cooking Neville.

At last, the Ministry personnel arrived (late as usual) with the rest of the staff and gathered by the Goblet. Dumbledore raised his hands for silence, and the hall immediately quieted. "Now, the moment we have all been waiting for, the choosing of the Champions. I will ask that as each champion's name is called, please enter the antechamber behind us for further instructions."

As Harry watched Dumbledore approach the cup and wait for it to spit its first name, the little hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something about this whole situation was rubbing him the wrong way. He looked around the room. Snape looked impassive and bored, but the evil glimmer in his eye told Harry that he was anticipating something. What, Harry had no idea since Snape was such an accomplished Occlumens, but he was definitely up to something.

Harry's gaze then fell on Karkaroff who was standing with a glazed expression on his face. Harry looked up at his falcon which was perched on... whoa, hang on... Glazed expression? Looking closer, he could see that Karkaroff's pupils seemed to be dilated, and his face seemed to be devoid of all emotion.

Having been an Auror in the years after he had defeated Voldemort, Harry recognised the signs of the Imperius curse almost immediately. Enough people had been under it that it caused the DMLE of his time no end of headaches in the cleanup after the war and Harry got rather good at recognising people under the curse. Harry quickly looked at Crouch Senior to see if he was under, but the department head's eyes sparkled with excitement. He was clearly free of the curse. Dumbledore seemed none the wiser. Harry quickly wracked his brain for someway to notify anyone, but nothing that came to him would allow him to keep his cover. He elbowed Hermione lightly and whispered his observations in her ear. Hermione frowned in response.

Harry looked back up at the adults and realised that, though Moody might have his head turned toward the Goblet, the grizzled old Auror just might have his magical eye trained on Harry. He looked at Mad-Eye then pointed at Karkaroff, mouthing, "Imperius!" over and over. Moody turned his head slightly toward the Cossack then back to the cup and nodded almost imperceptibly. Relieved that the situation was in good hands, Harry turned his attention back to the Goblet as well.

Seconds later, the blue flames turned an emerald green and it spat the first slip of parchment out. Dumbledore's arm snapped out like a snake and snatched it from the air. "The champion for Durmstrang is," he paused for effect. "Kiersten Halverson!"

The hall erupted in polite applause all around, but the Durmstrang students looked confused. Harry thought the confusion stemmed from the fact that Krum hadn't been picked, though he wasn't as shocked as he should have been. With everything that changed so far, he wasn't surprised that there would be different champions. He watched as Kiersten, a tall Norwegian blonde girl stood stiffly and walked into the annex. The unsure look on her face told Harry that she hadn't expected to be chosen. Most likely she had entered on a whim, or peer pressure from her friends.

Then the emerald flames flared up again and spat another name in the air. Dumbledore caught it deftly and unfolded the slightly singed slip of paper. "The Salem champion is, Stephanie Brewer!"

The red haired girl that Harry had met the other day stood up and cheered to the wild applause and whistles of her school-mates and joined the Durmstrang student in the back room. Before the door shut, she caught Harry's eyes and threw him a saucy wink. Harry's cheeks heated up in spite of himself. He could swear that Hermione was growling at the girl.

The first indication that something was wrong with the goblet, beyond the Death Eaters in the room, was the sputtering green flames. The Goblet seemed to be struggling against something, but lost its struggle as it shot out another slip of parchment. Harry saw that Dumbledore looked uncharacteristically worried and his stomach clenched. As the Headmaster caught the smoking parchment and opened it, his eyes widened in an almost panic. He waved Barty Crouch over and the two of them had a hushed but heated conversation. Harry could barely make out words and phrases such as, "...binding contract...", "...unorthodox...", and "...never before..."

He wondered what had happened. What that Neville's name? Had it come out early? It seemed that the two of them came to an agreement and Dumbledore turned back to the students. "It would seem that we have a second Durmstrang champion." he said gravely. "Viktor Krum!"

There was no applause this time as everyone was as confused as Harry and the Headmaster both were, though Ron made an arse of himself by shouting, "Whoo!" into the silence. Luckily for him, no one seemed to notice beyond his brothers who immediately started ribbing him quietly for it. Krum lumbered up to the front of the room, his characteristic scowl even deeper than usual.

The organisers of the tournament and the head of each school huddled and began to confer about something. They must have cast a privacy charm this time, because Harry couldn't hear anything. He looked at Hermione who looked worried, but also thoughtful, as she tried to work out what was going on. The impromptu conference was interrupted when the goblet started to sputter green flame again before it spat out a fourth slip of parchment from its opening. Dumbledore plucked it out the air and his eyes widened slightly. He didn't bother embellishing it this time. "Angelina Johnson."

The Gryffindors cheered for their classmate as the black girl stood up and tossed her cornrow hair behind her shoulders before heading into the antechamber. Before Angelina had even entered the room, the goblet flared to life again, this time spitting out the name of another Salem student. "Nathan Wayne." Dumbledore called. A skinny boy with brown hair and wire frame glasses stood up to the more subdued applause of his school mates and joined the other four. Harry wondered if the damn goblet was going to spit names out until it got to Neville. Or me, he thought bitterly. He still hadn't dismissed the fact that his life was fucked up enough that he might have to suffer through another tournament.

Once more, the Goblet started to sputter, but the flames were weak this time, like it was tired and only green sparks shot up from the open rim of the cup. Harry got the distinct feeling as the watched the parchment flutter into the Headmaster's open hand, that the goblet pitied him. He didn't like the chill that ran down his spine as Dumbledore unfolded the paper then looked over at the Gryffindor table. However, Dumbledore wasn't looking at Neville. Dumbledore was looking at him.

"Harry Potter?"

It was a question. The Headmaster clearly didn't believe the situation as he stared, dumbfounded, at the paper in his open hand. He glanced back up at Harry and looked fairly lost. Harry had never seen Dumbledore look that way, and it scared him. He looked at Hermione who had tears and a look of betrayal in her eyes, and he willed her with all his heart to believe that he hadn't put his name in. She nodded slightly and squeezed his hand, a scared expression replacing the betrayal.

"What?" he heard his mother shout. She seemed not to believe it either as she glanced between the Headmaster, the goblet and her son.

Moody said something to Dumbledore, but Harry couldn't make it out. All he could hear at this point was the blood rushing in his ears. He didn't know if he was frightened or angry, as he stood and made his way to the front of the room. Maybe a combination of both. In a cruel mockery of the last time his name had come out of the goblet, he trod on the hem of his robes again and stumbled. One of the Gryffindor sixth years, Lee Jordan, helped him right himself again. Harry glanced back down the table, but no one seemed angry this time. Only confused faces stared back up at him. Hermione looked lost by herself.

Harry made his way into the antechamber with the other five champions, flanked very closely by his mother and the headmaster. Crouch, Moody, and the other two Headmasters' weren't far behind, and gratefully, Snape didn't even enter. The other champions, who had been chatting amongst themselves, stopped when Harry entered. Both Stephanie and Angelina said at the same time, "Harry?" They looked at each other and giggled slightly.

As soon as the door shut, Dumbledore whirled Harry around and asked, "This is very important, Harry. Did you, or did you not, put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" He looked intently into Harry's eyes as he said this.

Before, Harry didn't realise it, but the Headmaster had been using Legilimency on him. This time, Harry was wiser and slammed his Occlumency barriers up. It might raise Dumbledore's suspicion but it wouldn't do to reveal anything to him. Dumbledore seemed to recoil slightly and looked about to ask another question, but Lily answered for Harry first.

"Of course he didn't!" she said vehemently. "Right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, suddenly very angry at the situation. Harry ignored his mother in favour of catching Moody's eyes again. He tilted his head toward Karkaroff and Moody seemed to get the hint, but his eyes told Harry that there would be questions to answer later.

"I think I know what happened, Albus." he said, his magical eye swivelling in the direction of the Durmstrang Headmaster. "Or at least who tampered with the cup."

Karkaroff took this as his cue to flee but with the amount of wands in the room, he didn't get very far. He collapsed under a storm of red lights, his falcon squawking angrily and fluttering to the top of one of the shelves. The bird seemed to glower down at Harry, and Harry returned the gaze full force. Lily walked over to Harry and wrapped him in a hug. He returned the embrace gratefully and saw behind his mother that the other champions were standing still and looking lost. The other adults were all gathered around Karkaroff's fallen form like vultures until Dumbledore addressed Lily. "Lily, dear, please fetch Severus. We will need one of his potions." he said, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

Lily seemed torn between comforting her son and obeying an order from the Headmaster, until Harry nudged her forward. She turned around and placed both hands on Harry's shoulders. "Will you be okay, hon?" she asked worriedly.

Harry nodded impatiently. "Go." He watched his mother hurry out of the antechamber to get Snivellus, then glanced back up at the bird, which was still glowering down at him. He didn't trust the falcon one bit. The adults had Karkaroff bound with magical ropes and propped against a wall, but he was still stunned. If Harry was right, Dumbledore had sent Lily to get some Veritaserum to question Karkaroff with. Moody caught his attention again; some of the suspicion in his eye had been replaced with respect. He stumped away from the group and over to Harry.

"Commendable job, Potter, on recognising the signs of the Imperius curse." he said. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

Harry waved the compliment off. "I'm just worried as to why he was put under the curse in the first place." he said. Honestly, Harry had a few ideas. It was most likely one of Voldemort's plans to get Harry or Neville in the tournament. But why he would resort to imperius-ing a former follower of his was beyond him. In the vision he had shared with Neville, it sounded like Crouch Jr. was there. The eastern European accent he had heard might have been Karkaroff, but again, why was the Cossack under the Imperius? He had to ask a question of Moody. It might blow his cover, but he needed to risk it. "Were you attacked before the term started?"

Moody seemed surprised. His magical eye swivelled grotesquely in its socket before coming to rest on Harry again. "Yes, but how did..." he paused. "Of course. Your father is an Auror."

Harry nodded, relieved that Moody seemed to come up with his own answer. "Were they caught?" he pressed on. Moody shook his head. "Did anyone know that you were taking a teaching job here this year?"

It looked like Moody was torn between being proud of Harry, and irritated at his line of questioning. "No-one that didn't need to know." he replied gruffly.

Frowning, Harry realised that that meant the entire Ministry knew, including Bartemius Crouch and by proxy, his Death Eater son. The difference here was, Moody had managed to defend himself this time so Voldemort had to alter his plans. It also meant that Crouch Jr. was somewhere in the school. Harry's first suspect was the bird. It was a long shot, but Crouch Jr. may have been an Animagus, or have been transfigured into a bird. He pointed out the glowering falcon to Moody. "Anything strange about that bird?" he asked.

Moody looked questioningly at Harry before looking at the falcon. After a few seconds he said, "Nothing really. It has a lot of magic around it, but then so do most familiars. Now why don't you go with the rest of the champions? I'm sure they have loads of questions to ask you." Harry could almost hear the, As do I, but we can talk later, attached to the end.

Harry's frowned deepened. He might have been as paranoid as the grizzled old Auror standing next to him but he didn't trust the bird. He wished he had his map with him, so he could check. He resolved to keep watch on it, assuming that they let Karkaroff and his bird stay. As soon as he joined the other students, they began to bombard him with questions. The Durmstrang students wanted to know what was going on with their headmaster. Harry told them about the Imperius. The other three just wanted to know what was going on. Harry debated on whether or not to tell the truth. He decided to play ignorant.

"I don't know." he said with a shrug. "But I think things are going to get really strange from here on."