AN: Harry's childhood is coming to a close. If I wanted to be more formal about it, I would declare this as the beginning to the second arc of the story, but I don't, so I won't. Still, hopefully you will notice a change in tone and pace somewhere along Harry's rocky road to war.


Fourth year!' Ron pumped his fist enthusiastically before beating the interior of the solar carriage.

'Is that really exciting to you, Ron?' Harry asked amusedly from the seat opposite, legs crossed as he reclined easily.

'We get to specialise our courses,' Ron said. 'No. more. Maths.' He emphasised each word with a strike of his fist.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry, Neville, Dean and Seamus laughed.

'You'd think that a tactician would need Maths,' Hermione pointed out.

'For what, boring the troops?' Ron asked. More laughter followed.

Hermione flushed. 'No, for working out co-ordinates and team division and things like that.'

Ron paused. 'Oh.'

The group laughed, and Hermione allowed herself to smile as Harry laughed the loudest. 'Ron, what're we going to do with you?' Harry grinned.

Ron scratched his head, smiling sheepishly. 'Apparently, make me do Maths. What field do you want to enter into then, 'Herms?'

'I want to be a researcher, or perhaps, if I'm good enough, a technological developer.'

Ron snorted. '"If I'm good enough."' The boys all laughed. 'C'mon, Hermione, you're like the smartest person in the whole school.'

'Apart from Dumbledore,' Harry voiced.

'And Harry,' Hermione added.

'Nope, you're definitely smarter than me. Don't even try to deny it.'

Hermione shut her opening mouth. 'What does everyone else want to do?' she finally asked, quietly.

'I'll probably go into one of the battle squads,' Dean volunteered.

'Me too,' Seamus said and they high-fived. 'I'm hoping to get into the aerial division.'

'That means you'd have to be good at flying,' Ron said and would have been attacked if Neville hadn't been sitting in the way.

'You, Neville?' Dean asked casually as the boy in question was used by Ron as a human barricade.

'I want to go into battle too. I'd…maybe try for a leadership role.'

This had Ron and Seamus falling still.

'Shoot for it, hom!' Ron almost winded him with a clap on the back.

'Yeah!' Seamus added.

'You'd be a great battalion leader, Nev.' Harry grinned.

This comment seemed to mean the most. 'Thanks, Harry.' Neville smiled, the deep respect he'd accumulated for Harry shining through. Ron ruined the atmosphere by pretending to gag, something that Harry found humorous but Hermione turned her nose up at.

'There's no point asking what Harry wants to do,' Seamus said once Ron had tired himself out.

Everyone knew this was the wrong thing to say as Harry's face clouded and he turned away from the group, glancing out of the window. Hogwarts castle sat in the distance, but it didn't instil him with the usual feeling of elation, only the tidings of change.

Judging Harry's progress with analytical exactitude was difficult when Harry disappeared for two months over the summer. Although, Dumbledore supposed, Harry leaving for the holidays was necessary, as it kept the boy happy and Dumbledore himself in high regard.

He watched intently for Harry's arrival and was met with quite a shock. The boy had hit quite a growth spurt over the long break and, Dumbledore was pleased to see, inherited his father's stature. Though having recently turned fourteen, Harry wasn't much shy of average height for a fully grown man and was due to keep shooting up. His features had matured, losing the softness of Lily and reproducing James' refined facial structure and strong jaw. Those eyes were still vividly green, and his smaller smiles evoked his mother's warmth. It was just the right balance, Dumbledore decided. Harry was becoming very handsome. The students were noticing, but Harry responded with incapacitating discomfort. That would have to change.

Yes, Dumbledore leaned back, waiting for the students to settle, it is time.

Harry was a bit confused to say the least by the looks he received upon entering the Great Hall. Not by their sheer number, he had grown accustomed to that, but by the very nature of them. They were too intense, too bewildered, too (a word Harry thought fitted best) predatory. He smiled nervously and many girls blushed. A few boys did too. Now Harry was completely lost.

He glanced back at the Lion boys, some who were more perceptive to this than others, and then to Hermione who looked just as knowing as she usually did.

'Hermione,' he hissed under his breath, 'what is this…?' but then he forgot what he was about to say when he caught a pair of pretty, slanted eyes. The owner of them, a beautiful Raven girl with a sleek curtain of black silk for hair, flushed under his attention before sending him a fleeting smile. Before Harry could do anything else, the girl turned away and her friends began to talk to her rapidly.

'M'god, Harry.' Ron said, 'that was Cho Chang.'

'I'm aware of who she was, Ron.'

'Aware being the understatement of the year,' Ron continued in a voice that Harry found unsuitably loud for the topic. 'Isn't she the girl you fancied for half of–?'

'Shut up, Ron!' Harry threw him to the floor and pinned his neck with his hand.

Ron looked inexplicably gleeful to Harry until he said, 'You still like her, don't you?'

'Ssh!' Harry muttered, glancing around the room.

There were quite a lot of people watching, but they seemed more focused on the fact that Harry had his best friend in a chokehold than the subject of his admiration. Finally, Harry let him up, brushing imaginary dust off of Ron's shoulders before punching him lightly on the shoulder. People took this as a sign that whatever conflict between them had been resolved and moved on.

'Is it true then?' Ron demanded.

'I dunno, maybe,' Harry said exasperatedly. 'She's nice-looking.' Again, an understatement. Harry found her downright gorgeous.

Ron apparently agreed. 'Nice-looking? C'mon, Harry. She's year above, got great legs and a decent pair.' Harry glanced away at this, beetroot red and pretending that he hadn't noticed. 'And word is that she's walked the hom circle. Bet she really knows what she's doing when it comes to men.'

'Merlin, Ron!' Harry grimaced. 'You don't just say stuff like that. Besides, look at her, she's just not that sort of person.'

'So you're after a good girl then, Harry?'

Harry quietly bemoaned the situation. How were they getting further and further into this? 'Yes, no, I don't know, Ron. I'm not looking for a type; I just like her, ok?'

They had left the others far behind in the pursuit of food, something Harry was glad about. He really didn't want Hermione to hear this conversation.

'Well, I'd usually say that a girl like that is lightyears off, but you're Harry Potter, aren't you?' The tone was light and jokey enough, but Harry sensed some masked bitterness towards the end. Harry frowned, slightly concerned.

'That's rubbish, Ron. You know it. Besides, she probably doesn't even like younger men,' he said with a half-smile.

Ron grinned. 'Yeah, maybe not.'

'What is this we hear?' two voices demanded in eerie unison

Harry flinched. Not this. Please not this.

'Who doesn't like younger men?'

'Would "younger men" be synonymous with "Harry" by any chance?'

'Leave it, Fred, George.' Harry sighed.

'Who is it?' Fred pressed.

'Someone we know?' George followed.

'In our year?'

'Bet she's easy viewing.'

'Ron, you know right? Do tell.'

'Ron,' Harry said warningly.

'Oh, leave the hom alone,' Ron finally said flatly, marching off to the Lions' table.

'What smashed his fleet?' George asked.

'Forget that, Harry hasn't answered the question.'

'Why do you need to know?'

'We need to make sure she's suitable for our cute, little Harry,' Fred said with an exaggerated pat to Harry's head, a task made difficult by the fact that they were practically the same height. 'Hmm, you were cuter when you were smaller.'

'Now you're all leg,' George agreed.

'Well, sorry for obeying the laws of nature instead of you,' Harry said dryly.

'As you should be.'

As Harry made to pursue Ron and ask him what was wrong, he was intercepted by his two favourite sixth-year Snakes.

'So this is what everyone's been talking about,' Azra Shafiq said, breaking eye contact to leisurely peruse Harry's body. Harry sprung back, hiding as much of himself as he could with his food tray. 'Time's treated you, Potter.'

'That's what everyone's been looking at me strangely for?' Harry asked. 'Because I grew a few inches?'

'No, Harry,' Azra Shafiq drawled. 'I thought you were meant to be perceptive.'

Adrian Pucey laughed. 'Not when it comes to himself, Shafiq. You know that.'

'You're right.'

'Could someone please tell me what is going on?' Harry asked.

'Look at you, all tall and tanned and chiselled,' Shafiq said. 'People are liking what they see.'

'W-what?'

'So what are you going to do with it?' Pucey asked eagerly.

'With what?'

Shafiq snorted. '"With what?" This gives you a new type of power. Are you going to use it or stand there floundering around like a grotesque puffer fish?'

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. 'Terrible analogy, Shaf.'

'I mean it though, Pot. Look at people like Cedric Diggory. He didn't get where he was just by being good at school. Think about that, all right?'

'Consider it done,' Harry said, shaking his head as the two Snakes bid him farewell.

Ron was still brooding when Harry sat down between Neville and Dean, so Harry ended up talking to the Longbottom scion for dinner and dessert, mostly about gardening, which Neville nursed a secret passion for. Many would find it intriguing that the stocky boy who excelled at most things physical would love plants, but Harry knew of Neville's kind and nurturing disposition better than they.

Dumbledore stood and everyone fell silent. 'I trust that you are all suitably fed and watered,' he said with a wry twinkle in his eye. There was a general rumble of agreement and mirth. 'Excellent. Now onto the standard proceedings, I'm afraid.'

He rushed through the required rules and notifications that always began the year. Harry noted the brisk pace. The head professor was trying to bring his listeners somewhere else as soon as possible.

'And finally, I would like to announce a tournament.'

The interest peaked at that moment, just as Dumbledore thought it would.

'Over the course of this year, ten members of each house will be selected to enter a competition and meet increasingly difficult challenges along the way. The final eight will form a team with 100 house points to each member. They will be led by our very own Harry Potter to complete one final challenge. Mr Potter will, at the end, choose the finalist who he believes to have delivered the paramount performance and they will receive a monetary prize. He will also take part in the administration and judgment of the challenges.'

Dumbledore looked to Harry, who nodded calmly. He had already been told this before he left for the summer.

'All those who wish to apply can speak to their heads of house. There is an age limit due to its difficulty, only fourth years and above will be able to apply. Ah yes, and I'm afraid that all Quidditch matches will be postponed for the year.' But no one cared. Everyone was keyed up about this tournament, asking each other if they were going to enter or begrudging those who were of age.

'M'God, Harry!' Ron said, apparently forgiving Harry for the price of information. 'Did you know about this?'

'Yes, since before we broke up last school year.'

'And you didn't tell us?'

'Wasn't allowed. You going to enter?'

Ron seemed astonished by the fact that he could, indeed, enter. 'I dunno, Harry, I mean, do you think I'd have a chance?'

'Yeah,' Harry said immediately. 'Why not?'

'Well, I might, yeah.' Harry saw the opportunity fully dawn in his eyes. 'I could do it, you never know.'

'You should enter, guys,' Harry said to everyone in earshot. 'Seriously. Lavender, Parv, are you going to give it a go?'

'I'd get flattened,' Parvati said earnestly. 'Have you seen some of the sixth years?'

'Give yourself a chance.' Harry grinned. 'In the end, McGonagall chooses the Lion shortlist so you might as well sign up.'

'Fine,' Parvati sighed, 'just stop bludgering me, Harry!'

The Lions laughed, and Harry poked his tongue at her good-naturedly. Over at the Badgers' table, Harry was aware of that boy with the bronze hair stirring up his own house. Cedric Diggory, Harry remembered: a rising star, prefect for his house, extremely popular. Harry supposed he could see why girls found him attractive. Was that really as powerful as Shafiq had implied?

'What are you looking at Harry?' Neville asked.

'Just people I think will sign up for the tournament.'

Well, that was true as well, wasn't it?

'You asked to see me, sir?' Cedric asked, unsure of whether to bow or not in front of the timeless head professor's desk.

'Please, have a seat, Mr Diggory. You're not in trouble.'

Cedric laughed along with the head professor as if on cue and took a seat.

'Lemon drop?' Dumbledore offered the glass jar, and Cedric accepted, probably out of politeness.

'Thank you, sir,' he said and stowed it away for later.

Dumbledore, however, elected to have his now, crunching it loudly. The crackling of lemon pieces echoed brilliantly throughout the office. Cedric didn't flinch once and waited in courteous silence until the man was finished.

'I've heard many positive things about you, Mr Diggory: talented, hardworking, polite, charming and amiable to everyone.'

'Thank you, sir, you are too kind.'

Modest too. He was a lot like Harry in many ways, Dumbledore thought.

'The reason I have called you here is because I want you to teach a fellow student of yours, a couple of years below you.'

'Of course, professor, if you believe me to be the best choice.'

'I do, indeed. The student is Harry Potter.'

'Harry Potter? What could he possibly learn from me? He is very skilled in all fields. He's the Chosen One.'

'Indeed, but Harry is going through some…changes that he is uncomfortable with. Very soon, he is going to be seen in a very different light by the majority of society. He needs someone to guide him because, unfortunately, all of his father figures are dead, as you may know.'

'So you want me to help him go through puberty?' Cedric asked, baffled.

Dumbledore laughed. 'In a sense. Girls are noticing him; he's noticing them too. He's frightened and confused. As a future leader of the war, he cannot afford to be frightened and confused. Do you understand, Mr Diggory? I want you to teach him how to be more like you. I want him to be able to charm whoever he pleases, to gain a loyalty that reaches beyond his title, to gain experience.'

'Experience…do you mean...that?' This was hands down the oddest conversation Cedric had ever had. 'But he's only fourteen.'

'He will not be forever, and the poor boy has been constantly forced to grow up quickly. Yes, he needs experience. I see it as another layer of growth and self-control. Do you understand me?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Do you have any further questions?'

'No, sir.'

'Then you may return to your common room.'

'Yes, sir.'

That man has Harry Potter's whole life planned out or something, Cedric ruminated as he left.

'And Mr Diggory?'

'Yes, sir?'

'Good luck in the tournament.'

'Thank you.' Cedric was bemused. He hadn't even entered yet. Had the man predicted him to enter and for him to be chosen? Well, perhaps it wasn't so far-fetched, not compared to the idea of helping Harry (to put it bluntly) score with women. 'Bloody hell,' he said, only after he had made sure that the head professor's door was shut.

'Ron. Ron, look, she's over there. What are you waiting for?'

Ron sat, immobilised, at the Lions' table, his hair and freckles comically vibrant against his pallid skin. For once, the food on his plate remained untouched. He turned to Harry with wide, baby blue eyes: 'Erm.'

'Come on, Ron. It's just asking. Wait until you're actually in the competition before you start panicking.'

'It's just – it's McGonagall, Harry. She's bloody scary.'

Their eyes both wandered to the front of the hall where she stood tall alongside the other heads of house, her stern countenance wordlessly discouraging any Lion that dared approach her. Harry didn't envy Ron at this point in time.

'Hey, at least it's not Snape.'

'I don't know, Harry.'

'Come on.' Harry gently coaxed Ron out of his seat with patient hands. 'You don't know how it will go until you ask.'

'Sure I do. The way it always goes. I never cut it; I'm never good enough.'

'Ron.' Taking him firmly by the shoulders, Harry just about resisted the urge to shake them. 'You're going to make it into the tournament, ok? Now ask McGonagall to sign you up.'

'Heard, sir,' Ron said with a deliberate sigh, and Harry sent him off with a pat on the back.

'And don't come back pretending that you have when you haven't,' Harry called after him before sliding backwards onto the Ravens' table next to Hermione. They faced in opposite directions, but that was easily rectified when they looked at each other.

'Are you entering, 'Mione?' Harry asked.

Hermione scoffed. 'I highly doubt that I'd make it past the first round.'

'You'd outsmart them all in seconds.'

'This contest is more than just about books and cleverness, Harry.'

'Perhaps,' Harry permitted, shrugging.

'You should sit properly, Harry. It's hard for us to talk to you with your back against the table.'

'I'm watching Ron, making sure he's gone through with it.'

'Ron can look after himself. You don't need to pander to him all the time.'

Harry looked over once more to see Ron talking to McGonagall, looking small and mouse-like even though he had surpassed her height. Still, satisfied with the scene, Harry spun around and tucked his legs under the table where they belonged.

'Harry, nice of your face to join us,' Terry quipped.

'Ha-ha,' Harry replied wryly before sneaking a slice of tomato from Hermione's plate.

She was about to reprimand him when she paused and looked meaningfully ahead. Cedric Diggory was passing by, presumably to apply for the tournament, and staring fixedly at Harry as he went. When Harry noticed him, the older boy smiled briefly and nodded before striding easily on.

'What was all that about?' Harry asked.

'That was Cedric Diggory, wasn't it?' Hermione murmured, voice a lot fainter than Harry was used to. 'Do you know him from lessons?'

'Not any more than most others, no.'

'He's rather handsome, isn't he?'

'What? Hermione!'

'Don't worry, Harry. You'll know him soon,' a pensive voice interjected.

Harry looked across to see Luna Lovegood, the slight girl with wild blonde hair and eyes the shade of colourless dreams, peering at him over her croissant.

'Right, er, thanks Luna,' Harry said, because he was never sure what to make of her abstract statements.

The girl nodded happily and returned to her croissant, pleased to have gotten her message across.

Ron chose that moment to return, collapsing onto Harry's back and clinging on, despite said boy's protests.

'That was scary as the bloody Whole Earth Apocalypse. I said I wanted to enter, and she just stared at me like–' Ron did an impression of McGonagall's severe gaze, scrunching his face up unflatteringly, 'and then I ran away.'

'Great, that's you sorted then,' Harry said. 'I expect to hear your name announced in no time.'

Ron snorted, rather inelegantly, before falling onto the Raven table and setting his hand on the nearest breadbasket he could, obviously trying to fill the space that his expelled anxiety had left inside him.

'And Ron Weasley.' A roar worthy of a real lion erupted from the red table, accompanied by a light smattering of applause from the other three. Harry grinned from his place of honour at the front of the hall. It was hard to miss two auburn-haired Lions smother a third as he tried to extricate himself from the table. Finally, the Weasley twins let him go, and Ron staggered to the front on stupefied legs.

Harry steadied him as he arrived before pinning a crimson badge to his chest, as he had done to the other nine Lion champions. 'Told you,' Harry crowed.

Ron was too breathless to retort, simply nodding and walking to stand beside Neville, a somewhat surprising applicant when considering his unassuming personality. Harry looked across the complete row of House Champions, profiling each one. There were people he wasn't surprised to see at all, such as Cedric Diggory, people he was, like Adrian Pucey, and people he wasn't sure what to feel about, such as Cho Chang. He looked away quickly when she caught him and focused hard on Dumbledore's ensuing speech.

'You are now looking at the forty contenders for the first "Soldier of the Year award". This will be a gruelling competition, fraught with trials and no small amount of danger. But let us not reflect on the hardships, for they are plenty in life and, indeed, war. This is a celebration; of skill, of vitality, of house loyalty, of sheer human resilience.

'Do not be disheartened if you have not been chosen, for your part in this is as big as any of these forty. I expect you all to show your full support, encouragement and commitment.

'The first stage of the contest is yet to be revealed. The date and nature of each stage will be decided by myself, Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, Professor Slughorn, a representative from the Ministry, Barty Crouch,' there was furious chatter at this, 'and our very own Harry Potter.' And the angry buzz melted into lightness again.

They were dismissed and Harry, with a small groan, squeezed through the crowd to find Hermione and tread the dreaded path to Solar Chemistry. About fifteen fourth years, all that were left of the year group's willing chemists, assembled themselves in the dismal corridor.

Among the unfortunates was a conspicuous abundance of Snakes, who seemed to like it here in the dank bowels of the school. They were headed by Malfoy, who hadn't changed much since first year apart from becoming paler, pointier and a lot more venomous.

His eyes were honed for Harry, and he struck as soon as the Chosen One was in earshot. 'You're going to be behind this contest, Potter? I'm surprised they trust you not to kill them all off.'

Hermione's hand at Harry's arm was a reminder to keep his anger in check. He nodded, squeezing the hand to show that he was in control. But Malfoy wasn't finished yet.

'What do you bet, Zabini?' Malfoy asked with a smug flourish. 'How long do you reckon the "champions" will last with Potter in charge?'

'I am perfectly capable of helping to orchestrate a safe contest for everyone involved, Malfoy,' Harry said before he could help it. 'Your comments are irrelevant and unneeded, as usual.'

'Irrelevant? I'm just a student trying to voice a genuine concern. After all, you have quite the track record, don't you?' Malfoy's cruel smirk was anything but concerned. He bared his teeth as he seized upon his next sentence; he had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what to say to Harry. 'The people around you tend to drop dead. I'd watch out, Granger, you're probably next.'

Harry stepped in front of Hermione, assuming an offensive stance. 'You don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy. Shut up before you say something irreversibly stupid.'

'It's true though, isn't it? Your turncoat godfather, your useless father, your filthy, common mudblooded mother–'

Malfoy clammed up quickly with Harry's solar gun pointing at his head, its pulsating, furious green mirrored eerily by Harry's eyes. 'You don't know shit about my mother!'

Hermione wasn't impressed. 'Harry!'

'Potter!'

Harry slid his gun quickly back into his holster as Snape stormed towards the excitable congregation. The solar chemist descended on him with icy rage. 'Detention, Potter, for a month, starting this evening.'

'You didn't let me explain–'

'There is no need to explain. If I see you pointing that atrocious device at anyone again, I will personally see to your expulsion, Chosen One or not. You are not a hero; you are not a soldier; you are an ignorant little boy, and the sooner you realise that, the better. Everyone inside.'

Harry fumed, and Hermione was once again at his side. Draco Malfoy's petrified expression hadn't been worth the tradeoff, especially as the boy himself drifted in after Snape, grinning conceitedly as if he hadn't been cowering from Harry mere seconds ago.

'Oh Harry, I know that what he said was awful, but you shouldn't have gotten so angry.'

'I know!' Harry snapped before sighing. 'I know,' he repeated in a gentler tone as Hermione had flinched away. 'I just can't help it sometimes, getting angry.'

'You have a lot to be angry about.'

'A lot of things to be happy about too,' Harry added, hugging Hermione's shoulders with a small smile. 'Come on, before Snape gets spitty again.'

The rest of the day was tolerable. His thoughts weren't really in the lessons; he knew most of the content already anyway. He was dogged by pupils, competitors and non-competitors alike, all trying to pry information about the upcoming challenge. Harry had to tell them, in mostly polite terms, to blast off and mind their own business.

Detention with Snape was almost a form of relief. Away from the noise and the stifling heat of people, Harry began to understand why Snape liked it down in the dungeons. And that was where his empathy for the slimy teacher ended.

'Come in, Potter,' Snape drawled from inside, eyes never leaving the papers that he was marking.

The boy who entered looked more like James than Snape had ever seen him: tall and wiry and dark and handsome, and all the envy that he had felt for his popular schoolmate manifested now. Then curiosity stepped over. The boy had left that detestable, lanky frame behind for good last year, growing into a much less ungainly shape than his father had ever managed. The effortless way he carried himself, the sober expression on his face and, of course, those green eyes brought another altogether different wave of nostalgia.

In order to distract himself from these disturbing thoughts, he remarked: 'Before we begin, I should inquire into the reason for your senseless attempt at an attack.'

'If you heard what he said about my mother, you'd have done it too,' Potter said simply, gaze never faltering.

Snape looked away first, discomfited by the sheer familiarity of that stare, the identicalness. 'You are to clean the equipment: beakers, test tubes, flasks et cetera. Then you may leave.'

Harry nodded and set to work, trying to shake the uneasy feeling of Snape's eyes lingering on him wherever he moved. The detention was short, and Harry was promptly dismissed, informed that he didn't need to return tomorrow. He left the classroom in a slight daze, baffled by his most hated teacher's sudden leniency.

On the way back to his common room, he intercepted Cedric Diggory, the prefect on patrol. Harry was used to wandering around the castle after curfew, and most of the prefects turned a blind eye towards his nightly exploits. However, he had never been "caught" by Diggory before, and felt the need to explain himself.

'I'm not breaking the rules,' Harry told Diggory when he stopped expectantly in front of him. 'I just came back from detention. So, in a sense, I've already broken the rules, and this is the innocent part.'

Diggory nodded. 'That's all very good, Harry, but I wasn't going to talk to you about that.'

Harry blinked, rather expressively. 'Ok. What do you want?'

Diggory smiled pleasantly. 'My feint-cuts could do with a bit of work.'

Harry blinked again, even more expressively. 'Sabre-play? I've seen you in duels, trust me, Diggory. You're the best in the year, one of the best in the school.'

'Indulge me, Harry. I want to learn from the master.'

'I'm not a master at anything,' Harry muttered. 'Why don't you ask McGonagall?'

'She's not half as approachable as you, Harry. I might as well ask you now, before you get too intimidating,' Diggory quipped.

Harry just stared. He wasn't aware that Diggory had a sense of humour. In fact, he wasn't even aware that the boy was capable of stringing a sentence together. He had just demonstrated both.

Harry sighed. 'All right, but if this is an attempt to one-up the competition–'

'Of course not,' Diggory said with all the earnestness of a Badger. Of course, how could Harry forget that he was part of the house of honesty and reliability? 'That's also why I'm asking you now, before details of the challenges are affirmed. Then you wouldn't be able to help me justifiably.'

'Name a time and place,' Harry said gruffly. He had a strong urge for a warm bed.

'Training room 1, tomorrow, eight in the evening?'

'Sure.'

They shook on it, exchanged respectful nods before parting their separate ways, one of them beaming, the other completely flummoxed. Between the unusually merciful teacher and the oddly outspoken Badger, Harry had enough weariness to fuel a good night's sleep.


Thank you for everyone's continued support. pawsrule: I'm glad you enjoyed this alternate version of Harry and Hermione becoming friends. Yes, I think skipping to the fourth year will save my sanity as much as will the readers'. RCPMione: I was also dubious when the plot bunny dictated space and non-magic as I am a fantasy author through and through, but I'm glad you think it works! I hope you continue to think so as the story progresses.

As always, feel free to give your invaluable feedback. Reviews will be loved, treasured and most probably replied to. Unless they scare me.