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Posted February 5, 2014

SUMMARY: Harry receives an invitation to an event which conflicts with the Yule Ball; and incidents in both Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions have long-term consequences.


12. ALCHEMY AND POTIONS DO NOT MIX
November 23 – 22 December, 2004


1 December, 2004 / 1 Evening Star, 4E199

The last of the month had actually flown by without much incident. Most of the school had backed off on the name-calling and the frigid stares, considering Harry had done something truly spectacular when he faced his dragon. The Wizarding press was still having a field day concerning the event, and the Commonwealth was having to run a lot of interference to keep the press away from him.

At present, he was having breakfast in his suite aboard the Ragnar—Wednesdays opened with a free period, and Harry generally didn't head down to the school until nearly the end of said period. The meal was interrupted as a regal-looking owl flew through the window and landed gracefully on the table at the vacant spot beside him.

"Oh, hello there. Something for me?" Harry asked.

The owl extended its leg, around which was secured a letter. Harry collected the letter, and fed it a piece of toast, and the bird took off again, obviously not requiring a reply.

"Damn. Something really important, to be sent that way," Justin noted.

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, as he looked at the letter.

"Shit, looks like the letter I got a month ago. Same writing," Tommy remembered.

"The Queen," said Harry, recognizing the seal. He opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter inside.

Harry J. Potter
Care of HMS Ragnar
Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to at this time offer Our official invitation for you to join Us at Our annual Christmas banquet, to be held at Our residence in Trevelyan, beginning at four in the afternoon, local time. A reception will follow. This invitation is also open to the other members of your party. Formal attire is a requirement.

Given you are currently residing aboard one of Our ships, simply provide an answer to Captain O'Toole, and further arrangements shall be made from there. We look forward to your company.

Pleasant wishes,

(An elegant signature was penned here)

H. R. M. Queen Susan II

"Well?" Mazhe pressed.

"We've been invited to the Queen's Christmas banquet. All of us."

"Damn. That's... really nice, Harry," said Justin, impressed, "It's a big to-do, all the big-wigs, department heads, upper echelon of government... really important people."

"Formal dress, so I kind of figured that."

"I'll need to dig out my tux then," said Justin, mostly to himself. "I think it's at my parents' place, have to make the trip there."

"What about you guys?"

"I would love to attend," said Mazhe, "Although I will need whatever you mean by a 'tux', Justin."

"A tuxedo. Very expensive type of suit usually worn on extremely high-end social affairs—such as the one we're going to be attending," Justin answered, "I'm not important enough to need one on hand."

"Guess that leaves me. Sure, I'll come along. I'll need something to wear as well then," said Tommy.

"We'll arrange a trip into Erwin on the weekend, maybe," said Brandon.

"Will you guys be coming along?" Harry asked.

"It won't be necessary, given the Queen will already have a lot of security in place around the palace. No, we'll likely enjoy a night off."

"As if you guys do a whole lot," Justin joked. That earned him a rude gesture for his effort.


At the end of Transfiguration class the following morning, Harry was somewhat shocked at the announcement Professor McGonagall made, as was Justin.

"Just before you go, I have an important announcement to make. The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish—"

Naturally, a good number of the girls in attendance had various reactions, some being rather subtle, while others not so much.

"Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day in the Great Hall, and will end at midnight."

McGonagall continued to describe the points of conduct and the like, but Harry mentally groaned. He'd already agreed to attend the Queen's Christmas banquet in Trevelyan. The times directly conflicted with one another.

The bell finally rang, and everyone scrambled to leave.

"Potter, remain behind," McGonagall called out. Harry waited as instructed, joining the professor at her desk. Brandon remained by the door to the classroom, while Justin stuck close to Harry.

The professor waited until the other students were gone, then said, "Potter, the champions and their partners—"

"Professor, I'm sorry, but I have already committed to attending another event back in Trevelyan. It's in direct conflict with the Yule Ball."

"Well you must then break that commitment. The champions are expected to participate," said McGonagall.

"It's not quite that simple, Professor," answered Justin, "Harry, do you still have her majesty's letter?"

"Of course." Harry dug into his satchel, and pulled out the letter.

"The Queen invited him to her annual Christmas banquet, and he's already sent back indicating he would be attending. His name is already on the guest list, which is likely already in the hands of the media. If he was to change his mind, it would have to be for a good reason, and I'm sorry, professor, attending another social function wouldn't be acceptable."

"It would damage his credibility within the Commonwealth," Brandon added.

"It is most unfortunate. I did warn the headmaster he should be giving far better notice about events, particularly those revolving around the tournament. You may go, Potter."

"Thank you, professor."

As he sat down for lunch, Ron and Hermione instantly pressed him about what the professor wanted.

"I don't know what she was going to ask me, because I told her I wasn't attending."

"You're what?! Harry, you HAVE to go!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I've already made a prior commitment, Hermione," answered Harry, pulling out the royal invitation. "It's not something I can break, at least not without a good reason."

"But the tournament—" Ron began.

"No, Ron, he's right. Invited to a function given by the Queen—you can't change your mind about it... not without committing social suicide," said Hermione, as she quickly skimmed the letter.

"Yeah and as Justin said, deciding not to go just because there is another social function just doesn't cut it. I hope you guys have an excellent time... and Ron. You probably don't want to wait too long, if you get my drift."

"Err... right."

"She seems to be taking more of an interest in you," said Hermione, passing the letter back.

"No more attention than any other person of importance in the Commonwealth, miss Granger," said Brandon. He had taken up his usual position against the wall directly behind where they were sitting.

"Jesus Christ, what's got into people today?" Tommy muttered, parking himself across from Harry.

"Why?"

"Oh, the fact he's been asked to some sort of ball by at least six ladies and—two guys, believe it or not, in seventh year since stepping into the entrance hall," said the S.O.U. member escorting him. "Justin, ready to get back?"

"Bogey, nine o'clock," Tommy whispered, flicking his eyes toward the head table. Harry inwardly groaned, seeing the headmaster approaching. Of course the old fart wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"Harry, if I might have a word."

"No, I'm not attending the Yule Ball, professor. I already have a prior commitment."

"I'm sure they will understand if you explain you have a commitment here first," Dumbledore answered.

"You want me to write a letter to Queen Susan, explaining I can't attend her Christmas banquet because a lesser-sanctioned event has to come first."

Harry held up the letter from the Queen so Dumbledore could see it. Of course, the noise level in the Great Hall had dropped considerably, as Harry once again faced off against the headmaster. After all, news travelled rather quickly in the school, and it was well-known the pair were at odds.

"Attendance to the Yule Ball is compulsory."

"And declining an invitation to an event put on by her majesty after having previously accepted it is bad form. Professor, you know her event holds precedent. He's a citizen of the Commonwealth, doing so would cause damage to his social standing... likely spilling out here as well," said Justin.

"That explains why a few older... students were acting weird when we came in. How 'compulsory' are we talkin'?" Tommy asked. "Is it part of the magical contract you keep going on about?"

"It's tradition, Mr. Riordan."

"I didn't ask if it was tradition, headmaster. Does missing this dance or whatever violate the contract between him and the goblet?"

"No."

"Then we're done here," said Harry. "I'm sure it would've been an excellent time, but really. I have a prior commitment. Not to mention, I have no clue how to dance."

Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly, then retreated, heading back to the head table.

"Thought someone put a de-aging potion in my coffee before I left or somethin'."

Harry smirked at the implications. "Mate, I'm sure you would've been adorable that way."

"I like the way I am, thanks. And some of the... um..." he furrowed his brow, "...students here need to keep their hands to themselves. I'm already wanted in the States, I'd rather not get on the wrong side of things here."

"They were all seventh years, Tommy. Half your age, but legal age in wizarding Britain."

"That's real reassuring." Tommy pulled his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. "What's legal age here then?"

"Seventeen. It's the same across the Wizarding world," Justin answered.

"Wanted to pop one kid. Jesus." He looked at Hermione, who was covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. "It's not funny!"

"Sure it is," Harry grinned, "You've got a nice frame, not bad looking, of course you're gonna get asked... though I don't think you would qualify for a proper date, given the, uh... I'll shut up now." That only caused Hermione to giggle more, and Tommy's face to flush.

"All right, all right, guys. Justin... we'd best get back."

"Have a good afternoon, guys."


9 December / 9 Evening Star

Defence Against the Dark Arts was a special case as far as Harry's chaperones were concerned. It was the only class where both S.O.U. members were present, both inside the classroom. Equally, the class was attended in rotation by Harry's circle. This particular class, it was Mazhe sitting with Harry, near the back of the room. It had become a habit for Harry to sit at the back of the room, so as not to draw too much attention to himself.

Given everything that was going on, Harry found it difficult to remain focused on the lesson—even with Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody as the teacher. He'd still not solved the clue to his egg. It didn't matter where he opened it, or what time of the day he opened it, whether it was hot, or cold, it still did the same thing. The sound had been forever etched in his mind, and likely everyone else's for that matter.

A flash of magic drew him abruptly out of his little daydream. Mazhe had produced a strong shield ward, now standing protectively in front of Harry, and Professor Moody now lay prone on the floor.

"What... why?" Harry asked, shocked at what just happened.

"We might have an impostor," said Brandon, gravely, "All of you stay in your seats."

He pulled out his mobile, and punched in a number.

"Miss Connor? Lieutenant Commander McAllister. We've got a situation. No... Yes... probably. Very well, I'll keep you posted." He put the phone away.

"But sir, you attacked a teacher!" Hermione protested.

"Look at that now," said Eric, gesturing to the unconscious professor.

He was beginning to change form, exactly as Brandon had suspected. The magical eye fell off, the wooden stump was pushed aside as a real appendage replaced it, and within seconds, Alastor Moody was replaced by a stranger, someone no one in the classroom had ever seen before.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

"Notice how he was always drinking from his flask? After a month of being here, I realized there was a pattern. Every hour, consistently. Here, and in the Great Hall. Anywhere we've seen him, it was a constant. First thing that came to mind is Polyjuice potion."

"That's really difficult to make, Mr. McAllister," said Hermione.

"But someone skilled enough in potions could do it," said Eric, as he pulled out his phone. He used the devices' built-in camera to take pictures of the man, while Brandon conjured some heavy cords and bound the imposter.

It was several minutes before anyone showed up. In this case, it was both Commonwealth attorneys, the headmaster, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall, as well as an additional S.O.U. member—likely to escort the attorneys up to the school.

"Oh dear," said McGonagall, seeing the stranger on the floor, tightly bound.

"Barty Crouch," Snape said, recognizing the man at once.

"You know him, sir?" Harry dared ask. That only earned him a scathing glare for his effort.

"Professor Snape, good of you to join us," said Brandon, "We were just about to ask this good man a few questions. Might you happen to have a vial of truth serum? We don't normally carry such things in our kit."

"I do." Snape reached into his robes, and withdrew a small vial, along with a second. "Veritaserum. And its antidote. I do believe you are aware of how to administer it?"

"We are, Professor," answered Eric, while Brandon knelt beside the prisoner. He gently pried the man's mouth open, and allowed three drops of the clear potion to fall on his tongue.

"Ready?"

"We're ready, Mr. McAllister."

Brandon passed the vial of Veritaserum back to Snape, then drew his wand, directing it at the prisoner. "Rennervate."

Crouch's eyes slowly opened, but they were unfocused, as the powerful potion had already taken effect.

"What is your name?" Brandon asked.

"Bartimus Crouch Junior."

"Where is Alastor Moody?" came Dumbledore's question.

"In his trunk, hidden compartment."

"I'll see to it," said McGonagall, quickly climbing the stairs to the Professor's private rooms.

"I daresay, this lesson is finished. You may all go," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the students, still rooted to their seats. It actually took several moments before anyone moved, and then it was a mad dash for the door. The gossip would flow fast and furious, but it wouldn't have mattered no matter what.

"You, too, Harry."

"No."

"Harry, this is most inappropriate—"

"Mr. Potter has full right to know what exactly is going on here, headmaster," answered miss Connor.

The next half hour was spent as Barty Crouch, Jr. was questioned while under Veritaserum. It painted a scary picture of exactly what was going on, and more importantly, what the Dark Lord had planned for the Triwizard tournament, and Harry himself.

"A very interesting scenario we have here, headmaster. We'll be taking Mr. Crouch into custody, and we'll equally be interested in speaking with Mr. Crouch Senior, since he seems to be tangled up in this web of deceit as well," said Mr. Sampson.

"And you will be detaining him as well?" Dumbledore did not look pleased.

"Considering he's a member of your own government, that doesn't lend a lot of faith in your government's, uh, effectiveness concerning the policing of itself," Mr. Sampson answered.

"Gods, have to wonder how many more skeletons like this one the Ministry's got," said Harry, shaking his head. "You wonder why I'm not really all that interested in coming back here?" He gestured at Crouch. "A glaring example. Can't wait until Alice and Will here about this... or Sirius and Remus for that matter."

Harry smiled at Crouch.

"You think I'm weak? You think I'm vulnerable, and I'm a baby, needing 'body guards' to see after me? I'll leave you with this."

His hand shot out quick as lightning, and a purple blast of magic struck the bound man. He instantly whimpered as his groin became instantly damp.

"Harry, I must object—"

"I OBJECT TO THIS LOAD OF HORSE DROPPINGS, HEADMASTER!" Harry roared right back. That earned a smirk from Mazhe.

"How could you not know, sir? How could you not know that your supposedly best friend for years was in fact a Polyjuiced Death Eater?"

"Harry, you have to understand, I am an old man, open to many faults."

"I don't buy it," Harry snapped back, "You should have known. If these guys spotted it after what... four weeks? You've had since the beginning of the school year."

Harry turned to Snape.

"Professor, have you been missing potions ingredients from your stores?"

"I have."

"They would include the ingredients needed to make Polyjuice, am I right?"

"Indeed," Snape sneered.

"I don't think we can blame Professor Snape, Mr. Potter," said miss Connor, "Given the nature of a school."

"I agree. I wasn't accusing him."

Harry sucked in a deep breath then blew it out.

"I think I'll take dinner back on board the Ragnar, maybe take a day for myself, and think a few things over. Gods, can't get through two weeks without something going all tits up over a berrel."

That earned a frown and a sad look from the headmaster.

"We'll finish things up here," said Mr. Sampson, "Mr. McAllister, Mr. Gomrass, why don't you take Mr. Potter and his friend back to the Ragnar?"

"We'll see it done," said Brandon. That got another sad look from Dumbledore.

He watched them leave the classroom. Here again, the Commonwealth was inserting itself into business they didn't belong in. Even if the Ministry wasn't exactly competent at dealing with certain matters, it was still inappropriate, whether Harry was seen as a citizen of the Commonwealth or not. Yet again, Harry was being taken away from Hogwarts, that action having the reverse effect Dumbledore had wanted with regard to the tournament. He mentally sighed. There was still loads of time before the end of the tournament, including two more tasks.

Harry, Brandon, Mazhe, and Eric landed in their suite aboard the Ragnar, the Port key now spent.

"Bloody hell... regretting my choice four years ago even more today," Harry muttered.

"Harry, what are you back so soon for? ...something happen?" Justin asked, coming out of the conference room.

"Imposter teaching Dark Arts Defence," Harry answered, bluntly.

"Seriously?" Tommy had just come out of the washroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, hearing unexpected voices given the time.

"I swear to the Gods, I'm gonna strangle Dumbledore with his own beard," Harry muttered, parking himself on one of the comfortable couches.

"Not that you'd get very far. He's a powerful wizard, you know that right?" Brandon pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I can't daydream."

"And being pissed off about it won't help either." Tommy disappeared down the hall to his room.

"He's right."

"I know he is!" Harry scowled, "Shor's balls..."

"Let's spend the day at the College tomorrow," Mazhe suggested, "Spend some time with your friends there. I bet Savos wouldn't mind reviewing some alchemy with you."

"The weekend, that sounds nice."

"No, first we're gonna do a few exercises," said Tommy, reappearing from his room. He now wore a tee-shirt that barely fit his muscular frame, and a pair of loose track pants. "C'mon, on the floor."

Harry groaned. Patience wasn't something he had a lot of. However, Harry got off the couch, and parked himself on the floor, while Tommy sat cross-legged a few feet away. The exercises were a good thing, he did acknowledge that much.

"Eyes here, forget what they're doing," Tommy said.

Justin and Brandon were heading into the conference room, while Eric took up position by the door which left the suite. Mazhe, meanwhile, sat down beside Harry, deciding to participate in the exercise as well.

"Palms up... good. Now just let all your shit go. No thinking."

"Hard."

"Just let it go."

The exercise was usually done in the morning, one of the last things they did before leaving the Ragnar in the morning. It was only a short exercise, but it was a good wind-down after the early morning jog half-way around the lake and back. Now, as he listened to Tommy's voice, he found the tension leaving him, the exercise having the desired effect.

Even though he was non-magical, Tommy had quite easily fit into the group. He was abrasive at times, but Harry easily overlooked that, given what he had to offer. The guy was built like a tank, and fought ferociously. With the training he had, he was every bit the warrior they remembered encountering back at the end of October.

Wednesday mornings first thing, Harry was then working with Tommy, learning about unarmed combat. How to block, how to fall without hurting himself, how to punch effectively, how to kick. For now it was covering the basics, but all of it was valuable to Harry.

Something equally valuable was coming out of the arrangement as well: friendship. It had been just over a month since he'd joined the group, but already it seemed like he'd always been there. Healer Ferris worked with him most weekday mornings on a professional level to properly deal with the emotions involved. He was at this point only needing to see her twice a week (Mondays and Thursdays).

His brother's children were then being well-looked after courtesy of Sirius and Remus. Sirius had tied up all his affairs in England, and now lived with Remus in Trevelyan. Being long-time friends, this made the household work, and with the help of Dobby, the children wanted for nothing. Of course, having uncle Tommy visiting every few days didn't hurt matters either.


21 December, 2004 / 21 Evening Star, 4E199

It had to happen eventually. It was almost the end of Potions, and, of all things, the particular potion they had been told to brew was an age-reversal potion. It was somewhat complicated, but could be completed within the period. It was the only class Tommy sat in on, given it was really the only course he could do anything with.

Snape learned quickly the man was more than capable, and turned in fairly decent work—even if he did have to rely on Potter, Weasley, or Granger during a few stages. Being non-magical, there were very few potions he would be able to complete entirely on his own. In most cases, at one stage or another, the use of magic was required in the creation of a potion.

Back to the point of our story, it so happened, Harry had a few ingredients he had harvested in Skyrim resting on his workbench. That is the pivotal point here, as, while people were adequately distracted, Pansy Parkinson casually plucked a blue flower petal up off the workbench, and tossed it in Tommy's potion.

Potions and Alchemy do not mix. This is quite clear. The instant the blue mountain flower petal touched the opaque purple mixture, it was as if a flash had gone off. While Harry was splashed with it slightly, Tommy wore the majority of it. He tried to spit the nasty concoction out, but it was too late. He could already feel an odd shift taking place, and whatever it was, it probably didn't bode well.

"You stupid, venomous snake," Brandon snarled, wand levelled at the offender, "You, my dear, are under arrest."

"Says who?" Parkinson smirked, turning around, "I'm still a minor."

"Mr. Potter, you all right?"

"I... think so. I, uh... we better go see Madam Pomfrey."

"The six of you... get... out..." Snape sneered, "You'll receive a zero for your effort."

"Thanks a lot, Professor."

Harry chanced a look at Tommy. He was looking very out of sorts. Whatever Parkinson had thrown in the potion most likely changed the effects. He wobbled unsteadily, before falling backward, and it was only Harry's quick reflexes that prevented him from bouncing his head off of the worktable beside them.

"Harry, can you levitate him, I'll deal with miss Parkinson," said Brandon.

"Yeah, I can do that. Tommy? You still with us?"

"I... it feels wrong." His voice was changing, as was his appearance. The potion was doing exactly as it was supposed to, although rather slowly.

"Stay with us, mate," said Ron, as the group of them began to leave the classroom, Brandon having Parkinson at wand-point.

"Sorry I wasn't watching more closely," Brandon apologized.

"Not your fault," Harry scowled, "Let's just get to the hospital wing. Better let the ship know what's going on so they're there to meet us."

While still keeping his wand trained on the perpetrator, Brandon unclipped his phone from his belt, and pressed several keys.

"Miss Connor? Yeah... we got a problem... sabotaged potion... no, he's fine, it was Mr. Riordan... age-reversal potion. Headed there now... okay, will do." He hung up.

"You can't do anything to me," said Parkinson, arrogantly, "Like I said, I'm still a minor."

"We'll see what the Commonwealth attorneys have to say when we meet them, now, won't we?" Brandon answered, viciously, "I don't know what you people's problem is, but really. You could've killed someone. Killed everyone in the room, including Professor Snape. Did that thought ever cross that small mind of yours before you chose to act?"

Harry had to smirk even considering the circumstances. Brandon was channelling Snape quite well just then. He mentally sighed—and the world went sideways.

He awoke some time later, to once again be staring at the white-washed ceiling of the hospital wing, his circle gathered on either side of his bed, along with Ron and Hermione.

"You keep finding yourself here, Mr. Potter, and I'm going to start keeping a bed especially reserved for you," said Madam Pomfrey.

"How bad is it this time?"

"A little bit of rest, and you'll be right as rain."

"And Tommy?"

"That still remains to be seen."

"What was the blue flower, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Blue mountain flower. They're everywhere in Skyrim."

"What are they normally used for?"

"They can restore someone's health, fortify someone's conjuration skills, fortify their health, or stop their magic from regenerating. It normally depends on what it's mixed with," Mazhe answered. He was standing at the foot of the bed, now looking relieved his best friend was awake and well.

"Stop someone's magic from regenerating? Oh dear," said Madam Pomfrey, clearly unnerved. She began doing another set of magical scans on Harry.

"The girl tossed it into your potion?"

"No, Tommy's."

"It would've likely only activated the first effect."

"But you don't know," said Hermione.

"No. Not for certain, miss Granger. Your method of mixing potions is far more colourful than it is in Skyrim."

"Will I die from this?" Tommy was laying in a separate bed, hands folded across his chest.

"No. None of the effects of the plant were fatal. Some mushrooms, a daedra's heart, and... a few other things I know of, they would be."

Madam Pomfrey looked very concerned.

"Tommy... how are you?" Harry asked.

"Feel all right, I guess, but... different."

"You look like you've lost ten years, mate," Ron commented.

"For real?"

"I have to agree," said Brandon, "Don't worry about it though. The effects will wear off. Eight to twelve hours, if I remember what Professor Snape said."

"Still... what she did wasn't cool."

"No, it wasn't, Mr. Riordan," said miss Connor, at last wading into the conversation. "However, the simple issue is we don't carry jurisdiction here. Not unless the crime is more serious. It could be conveyed as a prank gone badly wrong."

"A prank. You call this a prank?" Tommy said, angrily, "I hate to see what you'd call attempted murder."

"I assure you, Mr. Riordan, Miss Parkinson has been docked house points and assigned two weeks of detentions, and her parents will be notified of her actions," Dumbledore placated.

"It should be said that, if we perceive an individual to be a true threat to Harry's safety, we will take action, and it will not be pleasant," said Brandon, "That means we will aim to immobilize the threat. I hope that spells things out for you. Students or not, if they act with dangerous, malicious intent, they better be prepared to pay the adult consequences."

"I have to object—"

"Object all you want. Harry and his friends are our charge and our responsibility, since you made it quite clear last month you had no interest in making it yours."

"Lie in the bed you made," Tommy snarked, viciously.

"Of course you could just send us home," said Harry, lightly, "Maybe let you sleep a little easier at night, knowing trained killers aren't roaming the halls. Oh, wait a minute... that was already happening, LONG before the Commonwealth showed up."

"Harry that is not fair," Dumbledore objected.

"Sure it is. The Slytherins get away with murder, or nearly, on a regular basis. If it wasn't for the other teachers compensating, they would be running away with the point totals."

"He's right, Professor," Ron threw in, "Snape is terribly biased—I mean, it was over a month ago now but... Goyle cursed Hermione making her teeth grow enormous, and he said—"

"'I don't see any difference'... and he assigned Ron a detention and docked us fifty points," Hermione finished.

"An awful way to run a school, headmaster," said miss Connor, shaking her head.

"'yo Harry?" Tommy asked.

"Huh?"

"You guys got that unbreakable vow thing, right?"

"Yeah."

"Make an unbreakable vow that you won't ever come back here."

Tommy smirked, seeing the colour drain out of the headmaster's face. Harry, meanwhile, smirked just as madly. It was wonderful to have an outside pair of eyes now and then.

"Harry, surely you must understand—"

"Understand WHAT, Professor? I've not ever been truly happy here. Not with all your posturing and manipulations and other horse shit you keep managing to drag up every year I've been here. It's one catastrophe after another! And may the gods help you if it's ever proven you had something to do with my entry into this blasted tournament!"

That had the attorneys thinking. Oh, sure, Barty Crouch, Jr. ran the show, but what if? The headmaster did have his fingers in many pies. Perhaps a little bit more investigating was in order.

Deeply troubled by the suggestion Tommy had given, the aged wizard gently pushed into the Muggle's mind. The man was clearly a danger to everything Dumbledore was planning at this point. He was raw, abrasive, and didn't hesitate to make his opinion known, whether it was wanted or not. Worse, Harry had invited the man into his circle of friends freely, without hesitation. That just wouldn't do.

'Wanted by the Muggle authorities in America, is he?' Dumbledore thought. Perhaps a gentle push in the right direction might put some pressure on the Commonwealth. Or, perhaps there might be a different way of handling matters. A floo call to the American Department of Magic was in order, then... perhaps... after all, there was always more than one way to skin a kneazle.


By late the following morning, it was clear something was not right. Harry had not been affected much by the potion, and so had been declared fit and well late the previous evening. Tommy, on the other hand, showed no progress toward being restored to his twenty-eight-year-old self. He still looked about eighteen.

Given that realization, the medi-witch became suddenly very interested in conducting much more thorough tests to determine the exact extent of the changes. As much as Tommy hated the idea, a few of the others had to agree, it was unusual. A de-aging potion normally wasn't permanent.

"Harry, we've got Charms in about fifteen minutes," Brandon reminded him. Naturally, the entire group save for Ron and Hermione stayed in the hospital wing concerned about their new friend. Madam Pomfrey had tried, unsuccessfully, to shoo everyone out, but Harry (and by extension, the S.O.U.) would have none of it. Brandon even threatened to call in backup, and the medi-witch knew she had met her match when it came to stubborn.

"We're not going."

"Don't toss your classes just 'cause of me," said Tommy.

"And leave you here to fend for yourself? Not a chance, mate. We're on enemy territory. I can borrow Hermione's notes later—though Brandon, d'you mind letting Professor Flitwick know?"

"Sure thing." Brandon left the hospital wing.

"Well," Mazhe commented, smirking, "At least he didn't lose any of his, uh, physique." Tommy made a rude gesture.

"He's right. You... I mean, your face looks a little leaner, but... you're still you... and you've got ten years of your life back," said Eric, "If there's a silver lining in this mess, that's it."

"I guess." He pushed the covers back and sat up, cross-legged. "Harry, come over and sit."

"What—right." Harry left his seat, and sat on the end of the bed.

"No, sit right, like I showed you."

Harry huffed, but sat cross-legged, facing his friend. It was a little strange, seeing a younger version of the person he knew, but in the end, it was still Tommy.

"Mazhe and Justin... you guys mind going back to Skyrim, letting our afternoon trainers know we won't be there?"

"We'll see to it." Now it was Justin and Mazhe's turn to leave the hospital wing.

Dumbledore was in a quandary as he observed the group while under a disillusionment spell. They travelled in a pack. Never let one get separated from the other. If he admitted it honestly, Harry was surrounded by a tremendous group of people. A Muggle, a wizard, and a mage from another world. Never mind the pair of soldiers, one of which was still standing vigil nearby.

However, he would never admit that. In Dumbledore's eyes, the boy in their midst belonged there at Hogwarts, being carefully guided into the role he was required to play sometime down the road. Harry needed to be meek and malleable, quite ready to do whatever was asked of him. He did have a few friends at Hogwarts, and perhaps he might be able to take advantage of them. Perhaps in the fall, given there was too much on the go at present.

The American Department of Magic was not exactly interested in the report about a Muggle fugitive in England, and so that idea hadn't turned out quite as planned. Worse, the group would not leave Mr. Riordan behind, and any hostile move toward him would most likely result in a rather painful confrontation, and Harry would be in the middle of it. Perhaps, then, the man might incur some sort of accident. The incident in Potions yesterday was a perfect example (though again, if he were honest with himself, it was an incident of sabotage).

The second task was coming up. Initially, the headmaster had planned on using the ginger-haired mage as the hostage. There had been many ideas thought of and then discarded, considering most of them would have ended quite badly. He could certainly use Weasley, and perhaps it would be an easier, more pliable hostage, but those within Harry's close circle would be far more important.

Instead, then, he would use Mr. Riordan. He would need to talk to Severus about a few potions, and given he would be casting the stasis charms on the hostages, who's to say he couldn't add a few other spells as well? In the end, it was for the greater good, was it not? He silently popped away back to his office.

That evening, Madam Pomfrey finally released Tommy, and the group immediately returned to the Ragnar by Port key. There, they were met by a group of healers, who ran their own series of tests. Tommy wasn't happy about it, but the tests confirmed pretty much what they already knew: the guy had been permanently de-aged by ten years. Miss Ferris was also present, and that resulted in a series of questions meant to gauge his mental age.

Tommy was finally given a clean bill of health, and Harry made no delay in taking everyone back to the College of Winterhold. He was truly fed up with the nonsense that revolved around Hogwarts.


UP NEXT: A New Year's Eve party has Harry dealing with feelings and emotions he's not ready for; an incident within the Commonwealth has everyone scrambling; and the second task of the tournament leaves both Harry and Tommy enraged at the headmaster...