The weeks after the Second Task went by in a blur. Despite not having a Triwizard Task to research, Harry still found himself busy with assignments and homework. He also took the time to sit down with Remus and ask if he had discovered anything new about the prophecy. Unfortunately, Remus' research all seemed to be hitting dead ends. Prophecies just were and nobody seemed to know how they worked or how to translate them.

Hogwarts seemed to have either forgiven Harry for his interest in Dark Magic, or decided that it was less important than the fact that he was winning the Tournament for them. It seemed as though every student wanted to congratulate him, offer him advice, or ask if he knew any of the details of the Third Task. Harry was disgusted at their fickle nature, but did his best not to show it. Instead, he used the opportunity to practise his diplomacy skills.

Which was mostly working, though Harry's patience with his dorm mates was growing increasingly thin. They had apparently decided, once again, to try and befriend Harry and weren't taking the hint that Harry wasn't even remotely interested.

It was infuriating, and inescapable since he shared a room with them, but Harry had been doing his best to stay polite – if only because there was a good chance of any fight ending up on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Still, three weeks after the Second Task, Harry's patience officially ran out. He'd been studying at the desk beside his bed, which admittedly in hindsight hadn't been the best idea, when they others had returned talking loudly.

Harry grimaced at the noise and considered casting a spell to muffle the sound they were making, but instead decided to just relocate. He cast a spell to dry the ink on his partially completed Transfiguration essay, before rolling up the parchment and sliding it and, the three reference books he was using, into his bag

"Hey, Harry," Terry's voice sounded, as Harry stood up. "Want to play Gobstones?"

Harry clenched his jaw to prevent himself from turning as he turned to face them. "No, thank you."

Terry looked disappointed. "Oh, come on! We haven't played with you in ages."

"No, not for two years." Harry agreed shortly. "Not since you decided to break off our friendship."

Terry groaned dramatically. "You're not still holding that against us, are you? It was years ago! We were just kids."

"So you want me to pretend that it never happened?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Terry nodded eagerly, Michael and Rodney nodded as well.

"We could start from scratch." Michael suggested.

"We could." Harry agreed. "But I honestly don't think it would help your case."

Terry and Michael shared a confusion glance. "Why?"

"Because I don't associate with blood traitors." Harry answered simply.

"Why you little bastard!" Anthony, who had been watching the proceedings with a disgruntled expression, surged forward and drew his wand. "Weasley's right! You're just a stuck up, little, poncy, wanker! I'll teach you to call me a blood traitor."

Harry called his wand from his holster and eyed Anthony with contempt. "Sit down, Goldstein, I wasn't talking to you."

"Of course you were bloody talking to me!" Anthony argued. "Me and Rodney! We're they blood traitors."

Harry raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Well, at least you admit it. They say that acknowledgement is the first step to recovery."

"Calvorio!" Anthony growled.

Harry casually lent to right to avoid the Hair Removing Curse, as he sent one back. "Petrificus Totalus!"

The spell hit Anthony in the centre of his chest and Harry watched dispassionately as his arms and legs snapped together and he fell backwards.

"Hey!" Michael protested.

"He cast first." Harry reminded them coolly. "I was just defending myself."

"I told you that Malfoy was bad news!" Terry accused. "I told you that you should spend time with someone like him, but you wouldn't listen to me and now look at you!"

"If you were that worried you shouldn't have left me without any other friends." Harry pointed out. "Who else was I supposed to spend time with after you lot betrayed me?"

Michael snorted. "Don't be overly dramatic, we didn't betray you."

"No, you just decided that you would rather be friends with him," Harry sneered towards the frozen Anthony. "Than me. Now, I may have a been a pushover back then, but I'm not now, and you don't get to try and worm your way back into my life now that I'm a Triwizard Champion."

Terry had the good grace to look ashamed. "That's not why we're…"

"No?" Harry interrupted. "You managed to go a year and a half without talking to me and then suddenly, the night my name came out of the Goblet, you decided you wanted to be friends again."

"Alright," Michael stepped forward, his wand still in his hand. "So we have less than stellar reasons for wanting to be your friend, that's no cause for calling Anthony and Rodney blood traitors – or cursing Anthony."

"I cursed Anthony is self-defence." Harry reminded them. "Besides, it wasn't them I was calling blood traitors."

Terry and Michael both looked confused. "But we're traditional."

"Sure you are." Harry scoffed. "Whenever it suits you, but when it doesn't you just ignore it."

"You are friends with blood traitors though." Rodney put in quietly, while his friends were silenced by their shock. "Angelina told me that you're friends with the Weasley twins."

Harry nodded and acknowledgement. "Maybe I should have been more clear, I'm not friends with hypocritical, two faced, blood traitors. The ones who call themselves traditional but then go around spitting in the face of traditionalism."

"Who are you calling hypocritical?" Michael snapped. "You're the half-blood traditionalist!"

"Traditionalism is different for blood-purism." Harry pointed out.

"Is it?" Rodney questioned.

"Or course it is." Harry answered sharply. "As a traditionalist I respect the old traditions, regardless of people's blood-status."

"We are too traditional!" Terry protested.

"Really?" Harry asked skeptically. "When was the last time that you bowed to me, or any of the other heirs at this school? When was the last time you followed a tradition for any other reason that the fact that your parents were making you? Your sleeves are rolled down for Merlin's sake!"

Terry and Michael both looked down to the covered forearms, seeming surprised. They were silent for a few seconds, but Michael rallied first.

"Why the hell would we want to be a bloody ponce like you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to get into a traditionalism argument with you, Boot, I do not have time for your gormlessness. Maybe you should ask your parents why they're traditionalists. Just in the meantime, stop pretending that you're a traditionalist and stop trying to worm your way back into my good graces."

"You're such a prat, Potter!" Michael snapped. "I don't know why we even wanted to spend time with you anyway."

"Oh," Harry brought a hand up to his chest. "That hurt. How will I go on? As to your dilemma, I suspect that it had something to do with the fact that I'm richer than all your families put together, smarter than you, and about to be Lord Potter. Well, that, and the aforementioned Triwizard Tournament thing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

Harry couldn't prevent his small smirk as he strode out of the room. He had spent years regretting how much of a pushover he had been when they originally broke off their friendship, but at last he had gotten to have his say.

38-38-38

When Harry's copy of the Daily Prophet arrived the next morning, he unrolled it with trepidation before breathing a sigh of relief when he read the headline. Apparently Skeeter hadn't gotten her hands on the story of his argument with his dorm mates. He flicked through the rest of the paper to be sure, but there was nothing there, and neither was there anything in the paper for the rest of the week.

It was confusing. He had been so sure that Skeeter would write about it, as she had been writing about all the other incidents that had included him, but clearly he had been wrong. It was a bit embarrassing really. Was he so egocentric that he thought the world ought to revolve around him? Of course the Daily Prophet had better things to report than schoolboy arguments.

"No, they don't." Neville argued, when Harry shared his concerns. "Sure, ideally they would, but they choose not to. Merlin, a month ago they had an entire article about your choice in swimwear for the Second Task."

Harry grimaced at the memory. "That was mortifying!"

"You know what's mortifying?" Neville asked. "That our national newspaper is little better than a gossip-rag."

Harry turned to his friend in surprise. "How do you know about gossip-rags? I didn't think they existed in the wizarding world."

"Clearly they do," Neville sneered. "But here, we just call them 'The Daily Prophet'. I heard the term from Hermione. She's been ranting about it for weeks."

Harry felt oddly touched. "Really?"

"Not because of you," Neville told him quickly. "Apparently all the information about you is getting in the way of her learning actually important information about current events."

"I didn't know you spent that much time with her." Harry commented.

Neville shook his head. "I don't, we just sit together at meals and in Herbology."

"Why Herbology?"

"That's the only class we share with the Hufflepuffs." Neville explained. "Otherwise I sit with you or Draco."

"Has she mentioned that book she borrowed off me?" Harry asked curiously. "She returned it a month ago, but didn't actually say anything about it."

"Not specifically." Neville answered. "Though she did ask me about traditionalism a few weeks ago. I tried to explain it all, but I don't think she liked my answer very much."

Harry considered it. "Next time you should tell her that it makes social interactions logical. According to George, that's why their brother Percy decided to be traditional."

"That might work after she'd graduated, but right now she's a Gryffindor." Neville pointed out. "There's only five traditionalists in our entire house. Sure it would make her social interactions with those people easier, but what about other people? Besides, I don't think she'd go for the lack of equality. You should hear her rants about house-elves."

"I was a little concerned about house-elves at the beginning." Harry admitted. "But then I spoke to them, and did a bit of research."

"Maybe you should have been in Gryffindor." Neville suggested. "I think you and Granger would have gotten along. You would have least been able to keep up with her."

"What part of me researching about house-elves makes you think I ought to have been in Gryffindor?" Harry asked, with a grin. "Besides, I'm sure you can keep up with her. You came sixth in our class rankings last year, she was only three spots ahead of you."

"I probably could," Neville admitted. "But I just don't care enough. Besides, whenever we disagree on something, she completely ignores my argument. It's as though she's not even hearing it, she just goes on and on and on about some book she's read that said something or another, and I can't make her even consider my point of view."

Harry grimaced. "She sounds infuriating."

"She is." Neville agreed. "I think part of the problem is that she's never had any friends to sort of rub off her corners, which is sad."

"Yes." Harry nodded, he couldn't imagine not having had his friends.

"But doesn't change the fact that she's a nightmare." Neville continued. "And because she's a nightmare, she has no friends. It's a vicious cycle."

"Which you feel guilty about?" Harry questioned.

Neville sighed. "Yes, I do. Maybe if I'd befriended her in first year, instead of being such a scared little dweeb, then we would be friends now and I wouldn't feel like pulling my hair out when I have to spend more than an hour in her company. I know it's silly. Draco would tell me that I'd being an idiot."

"He would." Harry agreed. "But then Draco's a bit biased about this stuff. He still sometimes forgets that he's not a blood-purist."

Neville chuckled. "Yes, but he always feels so guilty once he remembers."

"I'm feeling a bit guilty myself." Harry admitted. "You remember be telling you that I had a fight with my dorm mates?"

"Yes."

"I think I went a bit over the top." Harry admitted. "It felt good at the time, but I was a bit of jerk. I called Terry gormless."

Neville grinned. "Really? Brilliant!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're not supposed to look so happy about it. I'm feeling guilty, remember?"

"Sorry." Neville said, his grin still in place. "Personally, I think they deserved everything you gave them and probably more."

"I called them blood traitors." Harry sighed. "And I cursed Anthony with a body-bind."

"That's unlike you." Neville commented.

"I know." Harry sighed deeper. "I felt like I was channelling Draco or something."

"No, not the blood traitor thing." Neville corrected. "The cursing Anthony part. You usually use your words rather than your wand."

"He cursed me first." Harry explained. "Which I dodged, pathetically easily, before responding. It was self-defence. What do you mean the blood traitor think wasn't unlike me? I don't normally call people blood-traitors!"

"Didn't you call Pansy one last year?" Neville asked.

"Yes, but that was Pansy." Harry argued weakly. "She was claiming to be traditional, but behaving like a non-traditionalist."

"So are Boot and Corner." Neville pointed out.

Harry sighed again. "Still, it seems sort of harsh."

Neville rolled his eyes. "I don't think so and Draco certainly doesn't. Besides, what are you going to do about it? Apologise?"

"No." Harry answered quickly. "They deserved it."

"Exactly." Neville nodded. "So let it go."

38-38-38

Before Harry knew it, March was over and the Easter Holidays had arrived. It was nice to have the opportunity to spend two weeks away from Hogwarts, though it was hard not to spend the entire time pestering Sirius about when the details of the Third Task would be released. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that, due to the vow Sirius had sworn, his godfather was incapable of giving him any information. Still, with the end of the school year less than three months away, the lack of information was really starting to grate.

The only positive thing about not knowing what sort of task he needed to preparing for was that it allowed him to dedicate his time to studying for his exam – which would be starting in just over two months. As he had the years before, Harry used the first day of Easter break to draw himself a study chart to follow.

Sirius had taken one look at Harry's study chart and had bemoaned the fact that Harry seemed to be more like Lily and Remus' kid than Lily and James. Remus had just rolled his eyes and flooed away to meet Tonks – apparently their relationship was going well.

A week into the holidays, Dumbledore called an Order Meeting at the Burrow which meant that Harry got to see Fred and George who had gone home for the first time since Lord Prewett had accepted his title. Last Harry had heard the family tensions were still high, with Mrs. Weasley still threatening to disown Lord Prewett and Percy, but that had been two months ago. None of the Weasley offspring had heard anything from their mother since before the Second Task, though they had received the occasional short note from their father assuring them that everything was fine, and Harry knew that Fred and George had been worried. It had been the reason that they had jumped at the chance to return home during the Easter holidays, despite having stayed at the castle during the Christmas holidays to avoid the conflict.

Harry stepped gracefully out of the Weasleys' floo and tried not to look too surprised when he saw Mrs. Weasley hugging Sirius tightly. Last he'd heard from the twins, Sirius had been public enemy number one in Mrs. Weasley's eyes for having suggested the Lord Prewett accept his title. What had changed?

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, releasing Sirius and pulling Harry into a tight hug. "Welcome!"

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Weasley." Harry replied, marvelling over the fact that he was almost tall enough to fit her head under his chin.

"You're welcome, dear." Mrs. Weasley released him and held him at arm's length. "Look at you, you're getting so tall. You must be taller than my Ron."

"Possibly, ma'am." Harry answered politely. All he knew was that the two of them were two of the tallest boys in their year.

Mrs. Weasley turned her head upwards. "RON!"

Harry tried not to grimace at the loud sound. He didn't think he would ever get over how much the Weasleys yelled for each other. Was it really too difficult to find the person they were looking for? Or, in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, use a spell a summon them?

"What?" Ron asked insolently, as he appeared in the doorway, his hand under his dirty t-shirt scratching at his stomach.

"Come over here." Mrs. Weasley ordered briskly. "Harry's arrived and I want to see which of you is taller."

Ron stiffened as he took in Harry's presence. "Muuuummm! You can't be serious. He's a bloody Death Eater!"

Harry thought the accusation would probably bother him more if he hadn't heard it almost every day at school. Well, that, and if it hadn't been said with a whine. Still, he saw Sirius, Tonks, and Remus all stiffen at Ron's words.

"Language!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "And don't you call him that! Harry is a guest in our home and you will treat him with respect."

"So, what? We're entertaining Death Eaters now?!" Ron's face reddened as he shouted.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley seemed to swell with fury. "Get back to your room this instant! We will be talking about this later."

"Gladly." Ron snarled with surprising vehemence, even for him, before stomping upstairs.

Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry. "I'm sorry, dear, I didn't…"

"Harry!" Fred and George chorused from the doorway that had held Ron just a few seconds earlier. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"Well, not your tones – …" Fred admitted with a grin.

"…Ron's," George continued. "But only you can make our brother…"

"…sound quite so angry." Fred finished.

"Well, you and Mum." George added with a cautious glance in his mother's direction.

"Oh, you boys." Mrs. Weasley sounded fond. "Will you take Harry up to your room? Dumbledore should arrive any minute now and then the meeting will be starting."

"Sure." The twins chorused. "Come on, Harry."

Harry smiled at Mrs. Weasley, before glancing at Sirius for permission. Once he'd received his godfather's nod, he followed to the twins out of the room and up to their room.

Having never been in their room before, Harry looked around curiously. There were two unmade beds that took up most of the room, one dresser, and a cauldron that had a purple liquid bubbling inside it.

"Sorry about the mess." George commented, yanking up the covers on one of the beds.

"And for the lack of seating." Fred added, doing the same to the other bed.

"It's fine." Harry promised, sitting gingerly on the nearest bed when Fred gestured for him to.

"So, what did you do to set Ron off this time?" Fred asked with a grin.

"Existed." Harry replied with a groan. "Your mother wanted to see which of us was taller."

"Ah, you and Mum." Fred nodded sagely. "No wonder he was yelling."

"What happened?" Harry asked in confusion. "I thought that Ron was your mother's biggest fan."

"He was," George agreed, with a sigh. "Up until she turned into a reasonably human being again."

Harry nodded. "About that, what happened? She was hugging Sirius!"

The twins exchanged a glance and then George got up and closed the door.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone." Fred told him seriously.

"Not even Draco." George put in.

"Or Daphne." Fred added.

Harry nodded again. "Alright, I promise."

The twins exchanged another glance. "Dad had Mum committed to the mental ward at St. Mungo's." Fred said eventually.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"I know." George agreed with feeling.

"You know how I said she was off her rocker?" Fred asked. "Well, turns out that she was."

"Mum and Dad haven't given us all the details," George continued. "But apparently something happened when she was younger that really mucked her up, and she never really healed from it."

"So Dad had her committed against her will." Fred said. "That's why she hasn't written to any of us for the last two months. She only got out a few weeks ago."

"And she says she didn't write then because she was embarrassed and wanted to explain it to us in person." George went on.

"We had a family dinner the night we got home." Fred explained. "Everyone was there, even Bill, Charlie and Percy, and she and Dad explained everything to us."

"Ron went bonkers." George said, before wincing. "I mean, he got really angry."

"Yelled about how Mum was betraying him and Ginny and all that kind of rot." Fred frowned. "He's been furious with Mum ever since."

"Ginny was mad too, but she seems to be getting over it." George added.

Harry stared at them. "That's…"

"Crazy?" George suggested.

"Bonkers?" Fred put in.

"Insane?" George went on.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Amazing. You must be so relieved."

"We are." Fred and George said in unison.

"Mum and Dad have even given us their blessing to join the Ancient and Noble House of Prewett." George added.

"Mum said that she and Dad are thinking of joining too." Fred shook his head. "It's just bonkers!"

"I didn't even know that St. Mungo's had a department for that kind of thing." Harry admitted.

"Neither did we." George commented.

"Dad says that it's really private." Fred explained. "All the staff have sworn unbreakable vows not to tell anyone who their patients are, and the only way you can get there is by floo."

"So your mother is back to normal now?" Harry asked.

"She's better than normal." Fred corrected with feeling. "She sat us down the other day and told us that she and Dad would support us if we decided to pursue careers in pranking."

"It's like she's a whole new witch." George agreed. "It's…"

"Amazing!" Fred finished for him.

"Incredible!" George agreed.

"Fantastic!" Fred added.

Fred and George both exchanged a glance. "A dream come true."

38-38-38