Disclaimer

C'mon, I am soooo getting tired of having to say I don't own any of this.

Note

Okay, so I finally found the other story that likened the tasks in the Tri-Wiz to the Elements. You have no idea how much searching I had to do to find it. It's on Twisting the Hellmouth. It's called WW-They-D?, and it's by mmooch.

I heartily recommend, mmooch's writing by the way. Extremely good writer.

Meanwhile, here is the dreaded tenth chapter. I haven't got much, due to all the craziness around here, but it's something – right?

Chapter 10

Delores Jane Umbridge was having an.. off day. First, she woke up with no real memories of the night before. She knew that she'd had the Potter boy for detention and knew that he'd completed it to her satisfaction. She could not, however, find where she'd stashed the (literally) bloody parchment no matter how hard she looked. It was like it had never existed, melted, or evaporated into thin air or something!

Secondly, her office was cleaner than it had ever been. The floor, especially. And... there was a brand new student desk where she normally put the children in detention. She knew it was new, since the old one had had some distinctive carving on the top courtesy of those same delinquents.

Then, there was her afternoon tea. Every time she saw a pot, she started having the irresistible urge to hum a Muggle song involving handles and spouts. She wasn't sure why. She certainly didn't like Muggles and she definitely didn't think herself a teapot. Giving into the urge to hum, though, led to the urge to sing. She'd narrowly avoided witnesses to her disgraceful behavior.

Finally, she couldn't seem to find the Potter brat anywhere. It was like he had vanished. The students, every time she asked (demanded) that they tell her where he was, looked at her like she was several dozen feathers short of an owl. The last group had even had the audacity to laugh at her! Well, she'd just had to give them detention after that, hadn't she?

The truly weird thing was that none of them showed up, even though someone kept knocking on her office door.

Harry was the only one in his dorm when he settled onto his bed. He stretched out with his Care text, but couldn't keep his mind on the subject. He was having too much fun reliving the effects of his work on Umbridge. His spells were driving their Defense Antagonist insane.

She'd spent almost the entirety of her day looking for him. He'd spent most of that time walking behind her under a very special Notice-Me-Not spell. All the other sentient beings in the school (including the paintings and elves) could see and hear him. Umbridge, on the other hand, couldn't find hide nor hair. At one point, he'd even shouted that he was 'right here' in her ear.

He made a mental note to thank Hermione for finding that spell in the Black library.

As it was, he'd made several of his fellow students laugh and gotten them detention. That hadn't been what he'd intended, so he'd surreptitiously cast the same spells on them the moment her back was turned. The look on her face when she'd kept opening the door and finding no one there! He gave a wicked grin as he reclined on his pillow. It was almost as good as the student's expressions when she'd then proceeded to slam the door in their faces.

A breeze picked up in the room and he looked to the open window. "It took you long enough to get here."

"The wards are stronger than the ones on Diagon. It took quite a few tries to get past them. I believe I've eaten roughly a hundred burritos in the last four days." Genesis looked more than a bit green. With the possible exception of some Wutain fare, he had never been the greatest fan of fast food. "They are disgusting things. Why did the wards have to give me a craving for them?"

Harry shrugged and rolled onto his side, facing him with head propped on one hand. He couldn't help the chuckle. "I have seen you wade through a battlefield – almost knee-deep in blood, shit and piss – without batting an eyelid, but burritos are disgusting?"

"Have you ever actually looked at re-fried beans? Have you considered what it looks like you're eating?"

He started to respond, then paused to picture them. "I concede the point." He patted the empty space on the bed. "Otherwise, was your trip uneventful?"

Genesis settled next to him, leaning back against the headboard. "Fortunately. I did almost wind up in a small skirmish with some sort of skeletal horse, but it turned out it just wanted the remainder of my last burrito. It was rather a relief to get rid of the thing. How are things going here?"

Sephiroth chuckled, imagining a Thestral poking through Gen's pockets for a bit of Mexican food. "A little better than expected. I believe the Defense Idiot is once again going to try to kill me this year. Snape is oddly civil, and Dumbledore is avoiding me. Considering that I've traded one openly-hostile teacher that refuses to budge from his position as Potions Professor for one that will probably be dead or incapacitated at the end of the year? I'm calling it a victory.

"Oh, and they're called Thestrals."

Genesis nodded his acknowledgment. "I've picked up a room at the Hog's Head. The Three Broomsticks probably would have been a cleaner place, but the proprietor seemed a bit overly concerned with my business in town."

Sephiroth snickered. "Are you sure it was your business that she was interested in? Most wizards aren't exactly what I'd assume a woman would consider attractive."

Genesis laughed. "Either way, it's probably better that I'm not in that particular Inn. If she wanted to interest herself in my business, I would be less than pleased. However, I think I'd be more unhappy to have a sexually interested witch with unrestricted access to my sleeping quarters. Remember that mess in Costa Del Sol?"

Harry groaned and flopped back on his pillow. "Don't remind me. I never want to be chased out a second story window by half-dressed females again. Not to mention the hassle of replacing most of our gear."

"Lazard's expression was worth it." Gen tugged Sephiroth's pillow to get him to shift a bit, then stretched out to take advantage of the acquired space for his head.

"Director Lazard's expression? That was the only time I've ever seen Tseng have an expression. I think that blasted Turk might have even laughed a little. He had less emotion on his face when I stabbed him."

Genesis yawned and Sephiroth turned his head to eye him. "Go to sleep. I'll spell the curtains shut and you can leave after we head for classes. Come back by tomorrow night, though. I'll have something for you to do."

"Mmmm." Genesis barely responded before his breathing evened out.

Ron, to Harry's joy, was now on the Quidditch team. The boy had narrowly defeated Cormac McLaggen for the Keeper position. If he were honest, he'd admit that part of his joy was in not having to deal with McLaggen for longer than he had to. The other Gryffindor was a prat of the highest order.

On the downside, Hermione kept pestering him about his detention and about helping her make clothes for the elves. The first, he certainly didn't want to tell her about. He had no doubt that she'd be disappointed in him for treating an authority figure that way. Even if Umbridge barely – or only technically – qualified. The second... there were some things he'd refused to learn, even as a SOLDIER.

Mending his clothes in the field had been one thing. Knitting was something entirely different, thank you.

Finally, he woke up early enough to have a few moments to himself. He settled in a squashy chair by the fire and started to work on a letter that he'd intended to write days ago.

Dear Padfoot,

I hope things are going well for you. The school year has been quite educational thus far. I am learning more than I ever wanted to learn about the Ministry of Magic and the qualifications of their employees. Professor Umbridge reminds me of Walburga. Though, I rather think that your mother was a bit more personable. My recent detention with her highlighted the true competency of our governmental officials.

Hagrid – our Care of Magical Creatures Teacher – is on sabbatical at the moment. We all miss him and are praying for his safe and quick return. I look forward to hearing tales of his adventures, as I'm sure that they will be fascinating.

Another tale that I'm certain I will find fascinating is the account of how you earned your name. A step by step retelling would be appreciated.

Hedwig is currently feeling out of sorts, rather twitchy and as if she's being watched, so I'm going to send this along with a different courier. You may, of course, use the same method to return any messages.

Best wishes and all that sentimental stuff,

Harry

He reviewed the missive one last time. Complaint about Umbridge? Check. Query on what the heck Hagrid is doing? Check. Request to pass on Animagus instructions? Check. Hopefully, it was just ambiguous enough to keep anyone else reading it from guessing what he wanted, but would still allow Sirius to decipher the underlying meaning... Considering Umbridge's intelligence, he could have probably printed it out explicitly in fifty-seven foot tall block letters and she wouldn't be able to understand. But, it was best to be at least a little cautious. Note to self: Have Genesis teach Sirius some of our old Ciphers.

A quick spell dried the ink and he hurriedly ran upstairs to tuck the letter into one of the more securely hidden areas of his trunk. Given the average competency Umbridge had demonstrated, he was fairly certain it was safe there for the moment. Unless, of course, she decided to call in Aurors or Curse Breakers. Still, it would have to do.

Quidditch practice that Saturday was all right, seeing as Ron was brand new to the team. Katie accidentally swallowed a Weasley prank product, though, and wound up in the hospital wing with a serious nosebleed. Unfortunately, Hermione and Ron wound up in a huge row about her apparent lack of faith in him when she tried to commiserate. He was very careful not to get dragged into it, but did absently wish for some popcorn.

Sephiroth sat and assisted Ron with his almost-late homework for the rest of the day. He wanted to chastise his friend for his lack of work ethic, but knew that it wouldn't go over well. It would be a spark on oil-soaked tinder after the argument with Hermione. Fortunately, his own homework was already done, so helping Ron with it was no real problem.

Sadly, that spark came in spite of his best attempts at keeping the peace. A letter from Percy disrupted their routine the next day. Ron read the missive and passed it to him without a word. His friend's face was already starting to turn red, even before Sephiroth hit the first paragraph. By the time he finished, he could see that this was going to be a problem.

"Well, Ron, if you wish to 'sever ties' with the potentially dangerous and insane psychotic, I promise that he will do his best to respect your wishes. Though, I would hope that you wouldn't stoop to kowtowing to a Ministry Toad." He flashed a small smile, hoping to turn it into a joke but failing. Part of him had been afraid for years that Ron would drop him as a friend. The debacle surrounding the Tri-Wizard Tournament hadn't helped.

Ron took the parchment and tore it into tiny bits of confetti before tossing the whole mess – less a few pieces that fled for their lives – into the fire. His already pinked face turned even redder as he ranted about his brother being a git. Sephiroth let him vent, exchanging a resigned look with Hermione while he waited. At least Ron wasn't taking it out on either of them, though the former SOLDIER did note that he needed to teach the youngest male Weasley a few things about proper swearing.

Rant completed and anger drained out of him, Ron collapsed into a chair. Hermione sighed and patted his shoulder. "It'll be okay. I know that he'll come around eventually."

"I hope so, I really hope so." Neither knew what to say to that. Ron's voice was so full of despair that it broke even Sephiroth's heart.

On an unnamed beach, over ten thousand miles to the South of Hogwarts, the wind picked up and the sky darkened ominously. Close as it was to Antarctica, the wind caught and lifted tiny ice particles from the ground, only for them to sparkle like glitter as lightning split the air nearby. The wind increased speed to form a small and stationary – but incredibly powerful – tornado. The winds and ice shards could have shredded any living being that came within range. Fortunately, no one was nearby on the tiny island.

The ground below the eye of the vortex split and glowing green liquid bubbled up briefly before receding to leave a small crack in the earth behind. The average listener would miss the grunts of exertion emanating from the jagged hole, as the wind howled around it. A large hand grabbed the edge. Hard flexes of muscle hauled a large man out of the opening, only to roll onto the ground and almost out of the eye of the storm and into the deadly wind.

He rolled again – away from the eye wall – coming to rest on his side as he vomited out more of the green fluid, clearing both his lungs and his digestive tract. The winds died down, becoming a gentle breeze that stirred sweat and Mako-soaked black hair while he lay there gasping from exertion. Green drenched wings twitched and shook, pure instinct flinging the deadly Mako from the limbs. More slowly dripped off the rest of his naked skin.

His breathing slowed. There was one shudder in reaction to his muscles finally releasing most of their tension. There was a second shudder as his body registered the chill around him. Instinct called clothing to him: the blue-black of a SOLDIER, First Class. There was a third shudder as his nervous system sent one last pulse of energy through itself, effectively resetting his body. His eyes snapped open to reveal their ancient, Mako-enhanced blue.

He let out a low groan as he sat up to rub his strong jaw, dislodging the small pebbles that had tried to wedge themselves into his skin. He slowly stood, testing his balance, then looked left and right before setting his gaze on a distant point. Sephiroth was that way and he was in pain.

His wide shoulders straightened. His wings snapped out wide. With a powerful clench of muscles, they slammed down to propel him into the sky. Ten thousand miles wasn't terribly far. He hoped that they'd be happy to see him again.

Angeal Hewley was back.

Dumbledore prowled his office, frowning. Things were not going as they were expected to go. Yes, Harry got detention... but not for the reason that he would have assumed. According to all the reports, the boy was far more in control of himself than Dumbledore had ever thought he would be. He was not as weak and meek as he had been the last four years. The signs of abuse were still there in some of his reactions...

Those damned Dursleys. Absolute destruction would be too good for them.

Still, the boy had a past life. And, didn't he curse the Prophet for telling that to all and sundry! Harry really shouldn't have revealed something so useful. It was another potential advantage wasted... Dumbledore was confident that he could have gotten the charges dropped. With a little coaching, Mrs. Figg would have been an excellent witness.

The returned memories explained some of the change in Harry, though the details of that life were elusive to the Headmaster. He couldn't ask the boy, and he was being remarkably tight-lipped with any information regarding his previous experiences. There were comments here and there, but nothing that allowed him to actually know the mind that now lurked behind those strange eyes. How was he supposed to maneuver things to protect the child (and, were he ever completely honest, for the so-called Greater Good), if he couldn't predict him?

He couldn't sit down with the boy and talk, not with the threat of Tom Riddle possessing the child's mind. It would be far too much of a temptation for Tom, were he given the opportunity to mount a surprise attack. And, it wasn't like he could openly call Harry to his office for a chat. Even if Tom didn't attack, Umbridge would surely find a way to use it against him.

He settled into his chair and eyed Fawkes. The phoenix gave a trilling little laugh, as if rebuking him for worrying too much. But, how could he not worry? Even the Sorting Hat was warning people now...

Beneath the Bermuda Triangle, a second pair of ancient eyes opened and surveyed the underwater environment. They glowed vivid gold. Do you feel that, Host?The Change that approaches? The Darkness is rising and Champions are rising to face it. Should we join them? Are We needed?... No, not yet.

His Host, still silent after all of these years, said nothing.

There we go. Not as long as I'd like and a bit filler, but some things did get done. Genesis has arrived. Percy is a git. Sirius gets a bit more of an open letter from Harry, since people are more pissed that he never had a trial than about his supposed 'betrayal.' Angeal is here. Dumbles is bumbling about baffled, but at least we heard from him. I'll check in on Voldie next time.

Yes, Dumbles has had a chance to read the Prophet and talk to the Order. They're not telling him much, because Harry hasn't spoken to them about much of his previous life. They know he was a SOLDIER and a General, that there's another system of magic, and that Genesis is apparently a friend from that previous life. That's about it, really.

If Dumbledore had any knowledge of tactics, it might be enough to predict – but the man was a politician, not a General. His only attempts in the book were laughable and incompetent at best. At worst, they were grounds for assuming that he was conspiring with the enemy. (Desk jockeys on guard duty? Really? And not even ones that are in positions that require combat training?) He was the worst kind of REMF: the kind that gets people killed for no good reason. Arthur could have very easily died that night, if Harry hadn't intervened.

Virtual cookies, ice cream or flowers (your choice) for anyone that recognizes the character beneath the ocean.

For those of you who are following our medical saga – yes, I'm upgrading it to saga – mom's surgery was scheduled for Friday (yesterday). It was supposed to be a full hysterectomy with ovariectomy – or however that's spelled. In short, she was supposed to lose her womb and both ovaries.

Unfortunately, the cancer was apparently also in her colon. For whatever reason, I'm not too clear on it, the doctor did not decide to do the original surgery and a colectomy. A friend pointed out that he may have decided that she was too weakened at the moment for that kind of shock. Whatever his reasons, she is going back onto the chemo and hopefully it will shrink it down to a manageable size.

Mom is on blood thinners, so I had to very carefully monitor that and I had to give her injections prior to surgery. (Yikes!) There are some things that you never want to do for family members, but you learn to anyway. This is one of them, I suppose. Ironically, I think I was more freaked/worried about injecting her than she was about me injecting her. She laughingly commented that it apparently did hurt me more than her, since she barely felt it.

Yeah. And the force used to pierce human skin? There's a reason the nurses snap their wrists (and the needle) into you. It takes work. Logical, I suppose, since it's there to keep stuff out... and in.