After breakfast the next morning, Harry walked to his classroom to prepare for his first meeting with Astoria. He had been working in his free time to design a regimen that would help Astoria to gain some semblance of control over her own magic, even if it was fighting against her at every turn. He'd skimmed the books that he'd pilfered from Gringotts, looking for any mention of a curse like what she had described, but he found almost nothing. There were bloodline curses, sure, but those invariably affected every single descendant of the victim, without exception. That wasn't the only strange thing, though. He also couldn't find a single blood curse that varied in strength over time, as Astoria had suggested it did. They either worked, or they didn't, and that was that.
Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. This was a paradox he was not fully equipped to handle, and for a moment he almost regretted offering his help. As his mind raced, Saphira slid up to his shoulder.
"Harry, what's going on?" she asked, confusion clear in her tone.
"I made a promise to somebody, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to complete it," Harry answered honestly.
"Why did you make the promise, then?"
"Because it was the right thing to do," Harry answered, almost indignantly.
"Is helping her going to help you in the future?" she asked, curiosity in her voice.
"Not necessarily. It's possible, but that's not why I did it," Harry insisted. "If I could help and didn't try, what kind of person would I be?"
"Probably a pretty normal one," Saphira responded. Harry couldn't help but scoff at this.
"You got me there, Saphira." A soft knock sounded at his door. "Come in!" he called. "Saphira, do your best not to scare her, alright?" he whispered as Astoria entered the room, making her way down to the front of the classroom.
"Good morning, Ms. Greengrass," he greeted, standing and pulling out the chair for her. He dragged his own chair to the side of the desk before sitting back down.
"Good morning, Professor," she said. He could feel nervousness flowing off her in waves.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked, doing his best to calm her nerves before they got started. "Classes going alright?"
"Pretty okay, yeah," she responded, shoulders relaxing a little. "Transfiguration has been a little rough the past week, but I'm doing alright in my other classes."
"Good, good. Did you get a chance to start reading that book I gave you?" Harry inquired.
"Yeah," she said, blushing a little. "I've almost finished it."
"Excellent," Harry said with a smile. "Have you started any of the exercises yet?"
Astoria nodded. "I've been working on the, um, the Lumos exercise."
"Care to show me what you can do so far?" Harry asked.
Astoria firmly nodded to him, then stood and drew her wand. "Lumos," she said firmly. Harry had to admit, he was rather impressed. The booklet he had given her contained some notes he'd made regarding exercises to help control one's magic, and one of the first points he'd made had been that confidence was key, not volume. He'd seen far too many witches and wizards shout their spells in the belief that it would make them stronger or better, but the only reason that worked was because shouting gave them confidence.
He watched as a pure white light flooded from the tip of her wand, then watched her brows knitting together in concentration. The light slowly dimmed to just a spark of light, then grew until it hurt to look at. It then returned to its original intensity, and then gradually turned to a deep green, then a light blue. It started to change to red but flickered and died before it could. Astoria lowered her wand at this.
"Very good, Ms. Greengrass," Harry praised. "To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to be able to do anything like that until at least a few weeks from now."
"Thanks, Professor," she said, shrinking a little under his praise.
"Remember, it's Rahkesh while we're here," Harry said. "Now, I'd appreciate if you could try that one more time. This time, I'm going to cast a spell while you do it that'll help me monitor how your magic is working."
"Lumos," Astoria said again. Harry lifted his wand and let his magic drift towards the girl. He could practically see the way her core made contact with her wand, allowing her wandtip to light. The channel widened as the light intensified, then narrowed as it dimmed. When the colors began to change, tiny strands of magic from her core would individually connect or disconnect, modifying the effect.
Just like before, when the color began to change to red, one of the strands of magic disconnected from her wand. This time, though, no strand moved to replace it, and it caused something of a chain reaction, and each of the other strands of magic detached one by one until the spell finally failed.
"Hmm," he mused. This was an effect he hadn't read about, much less seen before. "Ms. Greengrass, would you mind casting Protego for me?"
She nodded and raised her wand once more. "Protego!" she called out, a little more forcefully than she had previously. As it had during class earlier that week, a pale blue shield flickered into view. Harry was watching more carefully this time and felt as a thick cord of magic connected her core to her wand. As she held the spell, individual strands would drop back to the core and be replaced by others. A few seconds after casting, one of the strands failed to be replaced, a domino effect that ended with the total collapse of the spell.
"I think," Harry started, "I see part of the problem." He gestured for her to sit back down. "Would you mind telling me what you know about your condition?"
"I don't know a lot," she said. "My grandma had the same condition, and my dad—my father said that as she got older, it just got harder for her to use magic. By the time I was born, she wasn't able to cast any spells, and she died when I was three." Astoria paused for a moment, glancing around the room. "Profess—Rahkesh, what kind of snake is that?"
Harry smiled as Saphira slithered towards the edge of the desk. "Saphira is a chameleon viper. It means she can change to look like any snake that she's seen before." As he spoke, Saphira's form shimmered, and dark feathers grew along the length of her body. "That's what a Quetzalcoatl looks like," Harry explained.
Astoria had a fascinated look on her face. "That's amazing," she said, admiring the glossy feathers on the top of her head. She almost began stroking them but drew her hand back. "Can I… Could I pet her?" she asked hesitantly. Harry glanced at Saphira.
"As long as she doesn't pull my feathers out," Saphira hissed.
"Of course," Harry said to Astoria, "just make sure you don't pull any of those feathers out, she probably won't like that."
Slowly, Astoria brought her hand towards Saphira's head, and gently stroked the small feathers there. The snake hissed, enjoying the contact, and Astoria visibly relaxed.
"Would you mind telling me the rest of what you know?" Harry asked gently.
"The only other thing is that using a lot of magic at once can make it worse," she said quietly, continuing to gently pet Saphira. "My father told me that my grandma had to make an emergency Portkey once, and apparently she… deteriorated… a lot faster after that." It was clear that this wasn't an easy topic of conversation for her. Her eyes were downcast, and her voice was getting quieter as she continued. Harry decided that was enough for one day.
"Thank you for telling me that," Harry said softly. "I think I've got all I need to get started. Same time next week?" he asked.
Harry spent the remainder of the day engrossed in research. He had several pages of notes covered in runes, Arithmantic equations, and many disjointed thoughts. He frequently referenced Aldous Nott's journal on runic magic and perused every medical text he could find for any mention of the symptoms Astoria had mentioned. He missed lunch, but he barely noticed as he continued working. He knew he wouldn't have much time during the week to work on this, so he wanted to make as much progress as he could before the week began.
"Harry," Saphira hissed from her tree next to his desk, "it's time for a break. You're driving me nuts."
"What?" Harry asked, losing his train of thought.
"You've been staring at that page for the last hour," she complained. "I think we both need to get out of here."
Harry sighed. "You're probably right," he conceded.
"Of course I am," Saphira said. "Let's get out of here." She slid up his arm as he walked to her tree and draped herself over his shoulders.
"Where to, mistress?" Harry asked jokingly. Saphira slapped the side of his head with her tail.
"Don't be rude," she commanded. "Do you have anything else you wanted to do today?"
Harry hummed as they walked down the Defense corridor. "Actually, I did want to speak to Dumbledore about one of my classes," Harry mused.
"Then let's go do that," Saphira suggested. "You need to get your mind working on something else."
It was about four o'clock, so Harry had plenty of time before dinner to make his case. He made his way up the grand staircase to the third floor and approached the gargoyle.
"Er, can I go up?" he hesitantly asked the statue. It turned its head to stare at him for a moment, then jumped to the side as the wall opened to reveal the rotating spiral staircase. Harry stepped on and walked to the top, knocking firmly on the oak door.
"Enter," Dumbledore's voice called from beyond as the door swung inwards. Harry strode into the headmaster's office, surprised at how identical it was to the office he'd known in his past. The table by the window had far fewer devices on it, but other than that he couldn't see a difference. Fawkes was perched near the window but squawked when Harry entered.
"Rahkesh, what can I do for you?" the old man asked, moving a stack of papers to the side and folding his hands together. Harry sat down in the chair across from him.
"I have an idea for a class," Harry began, "but it's certainly not what you would call typical."
Dumbledore looked intrigued at this. "Go on."
"I think that it would be a good idea for some of the older students to have a real experience with some of the more dangerous curses," Harry started. "I'm definitely not going to let them cast any of them," he continued before Dumbledore before he could shut him down, "but I think that showing them how serious and damaging these spells can be can be."
Dumbledore was clearly thinking hard. "Exactly which spells do you intend to demonstrate?" he inquired.
"The Unforgivables," Harry said firmly. "They are arguably the three most influential spells from the last war, but none of them have the firsthand experience that adults who lived through it do," Harry explained. "If we show them how horrible these spells can be, they might understand what people had to go through."
"Hmm," the headmaster mused. "And how exactly do you plan to demonstrate them?"
"The Cruciatus and Killing Curses I could demonstrate on some animals that Hagrid would've killed for his Skrewts anyways," Harry suggested. "However, I think that the Imperious would be more effective if we cast it on them."
"You want to cast an Unforgivable on students?" Dumbledore asked, a little bit of anger in his voice. Harry raised his hands to placate him.
"Obviously, we wouldn't make them do anything too bad," Harry backtracked. "I just think they need to understand how helpless it can make people feel, and how even they could be persuaded to do something awful under its influence."
Dumbledore was now back in thought. "I'll have to do some thinking on this," Dumbledore finally said. "I'll also need to speak to some people at the Ministry. If this is going to happen, it'll require proper oversight."
"I understand," Harry responded. "Thank you for hearing me out, Albus."
"Of course, Rahkesh, of course," the headmaster said with a smile. "I'll let you know as soon as I talk to the Ministry." It was a clear dismissal, so Harry smiled back and left the office.
Classes that Monday had been rather trying. The students were far too excited about the champion selection that night to really pay attention to a lecture, so Harry let them work their frustrations out with some target practice in the dueling room. He was hoping that Dumbledore would approve his lessons, so he could do them on Wednesday, but he wasn't certain he was convinced. In addition, the foreign students would be joining his 6th and 7th year classes on Wednesday, so the heads of the other schools would have to be convinced as well.
"Alright, that's enough," Harry called out, a few minutes before class was scheduled to end. "I can tell when your minds are on other subjects. Go on, the champion selection is soon." The students happily packed up their things and flooded out of the room. Harry stayed back, making sure the wards were properly shut down before leaving the room, locking the door with a flick of his hand. The door glowed a dark green as it sealed.
"Professor?" Evelyn spoke up, pushing herself off the wall next to the door.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Potter?" he asked as she fell into step beside him.
"I was wondering if I could, I don't know, maybe get some tutoring from you?" she asked hesitantly.
"Why do you think you need that?" Harry asked. "You do know you're near the top of the class, right? You certainly don't need it."
"It's not for grades!" she exclaimed, before forcibly calming herself. She stopped short of entering the main corridor to the Great Hall. "The imposter, the one you fought," she explained. "He… He was one of the Death Eaters that killed my grandparents."
Harry had stopped walking now, too. "I'm… I'm sorry to hear that, Ms. Potter," he said honestly. He hadn't known that. "But what does this have to do with—"
"I don't want to be weak," she said, cutting him off but keeping her voice low. "My—I heard my parents talking about it after I left, like they didn't think I could handle it." She swallowed hard. "I want to show them that I can handle it. That's why I put my name in the Goblet of Fire."
Harry used every ounce of his considerable willpower to prevent himself from shouting at the girl. "Let me make sure I understand the situation," Harry said. "You felt your parents weren't treating you like an adult, so you signed up for a potentially deadly tournament?"
Evelyn glared at him. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, anger in her voice, "did you think that I came here to ask you to mock me?"
Harry could slap himself for his reaction. "I apologize, Ms. Potter," he said, wiping his face of any expression. "I'm afraid I can't accept any students for extra lessons at this point, I don't want to be accused of favoritism in my second week. Perhaps, if you still feel this way in a few months, you could ask again?" He couldn't afford to let anything slip, and if he reacted this strongly to just a short conversation, regular meetings couldn't be anything but a disaster.
"Wait, Professor, I didn't—" She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for that. I'm just… I've been a little high strung the last few weeks. I understand if you're worried about favoritism, but would you at least consider it?"
"Very well," Harry lied. He didn't want to make her hate him, but he was still hesitant about getting close to her. "I'll think on it."
"Thanks, Professor," Evelyn said with a smile, before walking out into the main corridor and joining the throngs of students flooding to the Great Hall. Harry took a deep breath, then followed.
Dinner was a blur that night. Every student ate as fast as they could, hoping to get the selection started sooner. Little did they know, the Goblet of Fire was designed to deliberate for exactly forty-eight hours after being lit, so nothing they did would speed it up.
"I haven't seen the students this excited for a long time," Lily said as they watched the students talk amongst themselves. "Got any thoughts on the champions?"
"Hmmm. Not really," Harry responded. "I haven't been around long enough to get a good read on them."
"My bet's on Cedric Diggory," Bathsheda cut in from his other side.
"I could see that," Lily mused. "Minerva did say he was quite impressive in his OWLs."
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore said, his voice ringing out across the hall, "unless I'm mistaken, I believe that our champions are about to be chosen." Indeed, the blue flames in the goblet were jumping now, flaring up in various colors and leaping higher and higher. There was a palpable silence, and every eye in the crowd was focused on the flames. With a roar, a jet of red flames launched skywards, propelling a tiny scrap of paper along with it. Dumbledore snatched it from the air with surprising dexterity.
"The champion for Durmstrang," the headmaster announced, "is Viktor Krum!"
The Quidditch star's cohort leaped to their feet, roaring their approval. Much of the other students followed soon after, eager to be a part of the celebrity's next story. Krum moved calmly to the front of the room, shook hands firmly with Dumbledore, then followed his gesture and entered the antechamber next to the head table.
Another tongue of flames leaped into the air, carrying a pink piece of parchment. Dumbledore grabbed it. "For Beauxbatons, the champion is Fleur Delacour!"
The majority of the males in the room stood and cheered loudly, drowning out the rather half-hearted applause from the other French students. The Veela girl gracefully moved to the front of the room before joining her fellow champion.
A third burst of flames launched another piece of paper into the air which Dumbledore again caught. "And finally, the Hogwarts champion," he said, unfolding the parchment, "is Evelyn Potter!"
There was a brief moment of silence, then the red and gold table erupted. Several of the more exuberant students even threw some of the platters into the air, which Dumbledore caught nearly instantly with a wave of his wand. Evelyn, most of the way down the table, shakily got to her feet and made her way towards the front. Lily looked like she wanted to leap to her feet and argue with the headmaster, but she somehow managed to maintain a semblance of calm.
Evelyn finally made it to the headmaster, who shook her hand and gestured for her to move to the antechamber. Lily took this moment to calmly stand and follow her daughter. The cheering from the Gryffindors continued, far longer than it had for any previous champion. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seemed moderately pleased, though Slytherin was predictably sullen.
Dumbledore waved his hands to the crowd. "Our champions have been chosen! I'm sure each and every one of you will give your full support to all of the champions as they strive to complete the tasks now ahead of them." Harry groaned as the headmaster spoke, watching the goblet as the flames within began to swirl and leap once more. "Now, myself and the other judges must give the champions their instructions for—"
"Albus!" Karkaroff's voice cut in. Dumbledore turned, confusion in his eyes for only an instant before the goblet came into his view. He watched, helplessly, as a fourth scrap of paper was ejected from the goblet. The old wizard's hand snatched it from the air and quickly unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words on the paper several times.
"Neville Longbottom." The headmaster had no joviality in his voice, not an ounce of the humor that had been so pervasive a moment ago. He glanced again at the Gryffindor table. "Neville Longbottom," he said again, "please join the other champions in the antechamber." Harry watched, this time from an outsider's perspective, as the Boy-Who-Lived walked to the front of the room, pausing for a moment in front of the headmaster. The expression on his face was one of surprise, but not fear. This Neville was much more confident than Harry had been in this situation.
The students in the hall left soon after the headmaster and the other judges moved into the antechamber. Harry could already hear several different theories about what happened drifting about the room, one of which implied that Neville had somehow used time travel to get his name chosen. A few minutes later, James Potter had burst through the doors and rushed directly into the antechamber. Soon after, Augusta Longbottom did the same thing. Harry and the other professors were waiting at the head table for Dumbledore to address them.
"This is quite the development," Septima was saying to Bathsheda. "Of all the outcomes I would've thought possible, this was certainly not one of them."
"How could anyone see this coming?" Bathsheda responded. "I can't believe this happened. I feel so badly for Mrs. Longbottom."
"So do I," Septima replied. "It's just—"
"Rahkesh?" Dumbledore's voice called from the door to the antechamber. "Could you come here for a moment, please?"
Harry stood slowly, exchanging a confused look with Bathsheda as he did so. She looked just as nonplussed as he felt. Shrugging back, Harry turned and walked in as Dumbledore held the door for him.
"What do you need, Headmaster?" he asked as they walked down the short hallway.
"It's Albus. I thought we'd been over this?" Dumbledore said, just a hint of humor in his voice. "Not to worry, it'll be clear in a moment." The two men entered the chamber proper and were greeted by a complete and unnerving silence. Harry glanced around and saw a familiar situation.
Fleur was standing near the hearth, Maxime flanking her. Both were glaring lightly at Dumbledore, but their gaze was nothing like Karkaroff's. The former Death Eater looked as if he were imagining what it would be like if he were to rip off Dumbledore's beard and rub salt in the wound. Krum seemed mostly neutral, but that was likely just his reaction to most events. He was a celebrity, after all.
"Alright, it would seem that we have everyone we need," Dumbledore said genially. "Mr. Weasley, if you would?"
"Very well," Percy said. "You have all been selected as champion for your school, and you've all chosen your advisors. Both you and your advisors will be entirely removed from any information about the tasks that has not been either disclosed to you by myself or has been made public knowledge. If it becomes evident that you or your advisor had previous knowledge, you will receive an immediate reduction in points for that task, with the penalty agreed upon by the judges' panel." He pulled several pieces of parchment from his briefcase.
"These," he explained, "are magical agreements that every champion, judge, and advisor will be required to sign. They will notify my department of any breaches of contract, and any punitive measures will be determined if necessary." He passed each champion two sheets and gave another to each of the judges. "Information on the first task will be given once we have received signatures from everyone. That will be all." Percy snapped his case shut and promptly left the room.
"Thank you, everyone," Bagman said happily. "I'm sure this will be quite the tournament, and I look forward to seeing you all at the first task!" he followed Percy out, a clear bounce in his step.
"Come, Viktor," Karkaroff said to his charge. "It's about time we got out of here." Maxime and Fleur soon followed suit.
Harry cast a glance at Dumbledore, who steadfastly refused to look at him. "Mr. Longbottom, perhaps you and your grandmother would like to speak with me? Minerva, Severus, please join us," the headmaster said, gesturing for them to follow him out of the room. Harry stood awkwardly against the wall as the group passed him on their way out.
"Mr. Asmodaeus," James began, but Lily cut him off.
"Rahkesh, Evelyn has decided that she would like for you to be her advisor for the tournament," Lily explained in a hurry.
"I'm sorry, her what?" Harry was completely confused at this point. When he was in this situation, there were no advisors, no magical agreements, none of this.
"Her advisor," James answered. "You'd essentially be there to give her advice, help her to train for whatever the tasks are, stuff like that." He glanced at his daughter. "I'd have done it myself, but it has to be a Hogwarts faculty member. Not to mention, it seems that we told our daughter a bit too much about your fight in Hogsmeade."
Harry fixed his gaze on Evelyn. She looked scared, but also determined. She met Harry's gaze unflinchingly. Harry knew that look.
"There are still many other professors here that would've been excellent choices. Minerva, Filius, your mother, to name just a few," Harry argued. "You've known them a lot longer than you've known me."
"Yeah, but they don't teach defense," Evelyn said. "From what I've read about the tournament, most of the tasks involve combat of some sort, so you're kind of the obvious choice."
Lily sighed. "I know this is a surprise, Rahkesh, but we would really appreciate this. I'm… we're not especially pleased that she's involved, but I've seen you in action. If there's anything you could do…" she trailed off, worry clear on her face.
Harry was very conflicted. He was still of the opinion that he needed to maintain his distance to protect both his new identity and the people he wanted to keep safe.
"Can I take a day to think about it?" Harry asked. He was having a difficult time keeping his composure and could feel his heart rate increasing. "I promise I'll have an answer by dinner tomorrow."
"That would be fine, Rahkesh," Lily responded with a slight smile. "Thank you."
Harry smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and he knew it. He turned and walked quickly to the door and was halfway to the doors of the Great Hall before anyone noticed him.
"Rahkesh?" a voice called out, but Harry wasn't listening. He could feel the walls closing in on him, he needed to get outside. A flick of his hand summoned his broom from his apartments, and another flick threw the main doors of the castle open. He reached his hand out to his side, where it closed around the handle of his broomstick. He threw his leg over it and launched into the sky.
"Are you sure about this, Eve?" Lily asked for the thousandth time that night as the family sat in her apartment. "Filius might be a safer option. You know he was a dueling champion when he was younger, right?"
"Mom, please," Evelyn groaned. "We've been over this a million times. I've made my decision."
"I know, honey, but—"
"She's right, Lils," James cut her off. "This is her decision, and if she's certain, then we have to support her." He looked at Evelyn. "Though I think we do need to discuss another decision you made."
"Do we have to do this right now?" she complained, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling.
"It's going to happen eventually. Better to just get it over with," James said gently, sitting down on the armchair next to her. "Why did you submit your name?"
Evelyn shifted in her seat, refusing to make eye contact with her parents. "I—I heard you guys talking about the imposter… after I left," she admitted.
Lily sighed, looking at James. "What exactly did you hear?"
"Just that it looked like he was trying to enter a student in the tournament," Evelyn said, "and that I was one of them."
"So why did you put your name in?" Lily asked, her voice quiet. Evelyn thought she sounded close to tears.
"…because it felt like you guys didn't believe in me," Evelyn whispered back. "I just… I wanted you to be proud of me, to believe in me." She dropped her head into her hands. "You thought I was weak."
James moved from the armchair to the couch, wrapping an arm around Evelyn. "It wasn't that," he said softly. "We were just worried about you. Still are," he admitted, "and that's never going to change, even when you're fifty. And maybe you're right, maybe we should've told you. But you're always going to be our daughter, even when you don't want to be."
"And anyways," Lily said from her other side, "we might not be super happy that you're in the tournament, but you're crazy if you think we're not going to cheer you on every step of the way."
"Thanks, mom," Evelyn said, a smile creeping onto her face despite her best efforts.
Author's Note: Sorry again for my ridiculous update schedule. Since I can't promise that I won't get distracted and stop updating for a long time, I figure I might as well bust out as many chapters as I can while I'm thinking about it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Edit, 4/10/19: Grammar fixes.