A/N: Here is a quick chapter. And a short note because my team's match is on. Yes. Football (Soccer in the U.S.) Is a religion. Thanks to all of you for reading.


As Halloween Approaches


John was always an enigma to me. I heard all the stories yet, during most of our time at Hogwarts, he was more passive than active. Always helping with advice but rarely active. He explained it to me. In the past, he was always the hero who would disappear into the night once the world was saved. As we grew up, he adjusted to the fact that, regardless of what happened, he would still be there tomorrow. It made him hesitate. He had the added burden of wondering if he were part of the problem he'd be trying to fix.


Peter Pettigrew was happy for many reasons. The main reason was that he was still alive. The second reason was that the person he was talking to was not going to kill him. The third reason was that, should he remain not being killed, he would be returning to Earth. Visiting alien worlds was not, now, his idea of a wonderful experience.

"Earth," the alien was saying, "is protected. Your only choice is to purchase freelancers and that will be expensive. Any species strong enough to help you will not bother to help you. They will attack on their own. Any species that says they will help will use you to their own ends. Is that honest enough for you?"

Peter nodded his head. At least the alien looked mostly human. Except for the cat eyes. And the lisp because of the lizard tongue. "Would any freelancers accept . . ."

"Unless they are in extreme distress, No. Cash. Up front. Speaking of which, you owe me one hundred credits for my advice. Completely refundable if you find that I am wrong. If I am very wrong, I will even reimburse you for all intervening expenses. However, alas, I have yet to be proven wrong."

Peter grumbled, more because he thought it was expected of him. He reached into his pocket and removed the payment cube. The alien touched it and said, "Thank you." Peter mumbled about where he would find distressed freelancers.

"Check the news for any recent wars. Then try to find the losers." The alien smirked. "That advice was free."

Peter grumbled for real as he walked away. He did, however, check out the news site on the hotel computer. A marvel, once he understood what it was. He found several wars that had ended recently. One was close by, only a hundred light years or so. He shrugged his shoulders. It was worth a try. The alternative was returning with nothing to show.


Albus Dumbledore smiled as he sat at his desk Halloween was only a week away. He was looking at the assistant Headmistress.

"Your opinion, Minerva?"

"The Hogsmeade weekends. I think cancelling this one completely is wrong. I've asked the others for alternatives. Move this one to next weekend. Move the next one forward one week, after the first task."

"That will give our guest a chance to see wizarding Britain, if only one town," Albus mused. "Thank you. For a wonderfully easy solution."

"Why didn't you think of it?"

"To be honest with you, I did. Along with a dozen other alternatives. My first inclination was to cancel it completely, to give our guests time to adjust. For some reason, I felt the need to hear the opinions of others."

Minerva smiled kindly. "After what happened with Harry Potter, I think it's a healthy attitude. For all of us."

"He's changed, as well, you know," Albus said. His voice held a sadness. "He still respects me. He doesn't trust me, though. Not as he did when he first arrived."

"Do you think it's John's influence?"

"No, not completely. You did hear of his . . . vacation?"

"Victorian London? Yes. I did hear."

"I think he met someone there, someone who is an expert on how to manipulate people. I think this person used their time together to teach Harry as much as possible." Albus sighed. "Harry is now cunning to a degree I do not think possible without a teacher. He thinks things through, weighs his options. Good things in themselves, but they do not lend themselves to simply trusting those in authority. He thinks, and he is right to think, that we have our own plans."

Minerva dismissed the idea. "It isn't as though we want to USE the boy."

"But we do. You and I. We want him to act a certain way and do certain things, when the time comes. The Minister does. Even Voldemort. The problem, for all of us, is that Harry wants to know all of his options. Harry wants to choose. And we must face the fear that he will not choose that which we most want him to."

"Do you honestly think he would choose to hurt us?"

"Not at all. But he may choose to let us be hurt if it means that others who are more important, in his opinion, will be protected."

Minerva sat in silence for a moment. "If that's it, Albus, then we have to trust him. And help him to know what his options are."

"That is obvious, Minerva. And we will help him all we can. But that still does not remove the fear."

He smiled grimly as the Assistant Headmistress nodded in understanding.


Barty Crouch, Junior was kneeling before the chair that held the shriveled form that was the Dark Lord. They were both smiling.

"All has been prepared, Master. We even have arranged for a puppet to do the task for us. Dolores Umbridge is on the scene to monitor events in case we need to intervene. All we need to do is prepare for the moment."

Voldemort smiled. "And our other efforts?"

"The Ministry has removed the alien who claimed to be helping us. Balthazar Zabini survived the attack but his son and his home were completely destroyed."

"And who in the Ministry do we have to thank for this?"

Barty grinned. This was news he was happy to give. "The name of Lucius Malfoy keeps coming up."

"Malfoy? I thought him at heart to be too much of a coward."

"Master," a voice from the shadows asked. "May I offer an explanation?"

"An explanation? Nott, how could you possibly explain away an act of treason against me."

"The alien in question, the Great Intelligence, was trying to use us to achieve its goal. Though the use of the younger Zabini, it went against your orders and tried to kill Harry Potter on two occasions."

"I have heard of one effort. The wedding at the Malfoy estate. Had it succeeded, I could have forgiven the disobedience. It tried again?"

"Directly against Potter. It hired its own alien mercenaries. They were all killed. Lucius Malfoy did not tell me how this happened."

Barty couldn't help himself. "You talked to that blood traitor?"

"He is the reason I've been able to send letters to my son. I do trust him."

Voldemort raised his weak voice when Barty began to stand. "Wait. This intrigues me. One of you says that Lucius Malfoy is a blood traitor. The other says that he is loyal to me. Who do I believe?"

"Master," Nott implored, "Lucius has made himself indispensable to the Minister, yet he has helped me remain hidden and freely gives me information that is useful to our cause. For this reason, I trust him."

Barty sneered. "Then explain his son's actions at the World Cup."

Barty's sneer faltered when Nott grinned.

"It is easier to explain the facts and permit our master to draw his own conclusions." Nott stepped closer to the chair Voldemort was lying in. "Shortly before the Minister and the Aurors were going to attack, Draco Malfoy used his wand and caused the Dark Mark to appear in the skies above the Forest of Dean. The Ministry delayed its attack, I assume out of surprise, giving the Death Eaters who were involved enough time to use their shield. Use our shields, I should say. The attacks came from three sides but were easily repulsed. We barely escaped but, and this is important, all of us escaped." Nott laughed. "And Draco Malfoy is being hailed as a hero."

"And we look like fools," Barty spat.

"According to Lucius, the Death Eaters look like fools. And if we believe the Daily Prophet, the Ministry is considered ineffectual. My dear friend, Lucius, also suggested that if Death Eaters attacked the Ministry, and were easily repulsed by a known group of wizards and witches, that group could find themselves given control of the government in gratitude, replacing the current Minister. This could happen even before your restoration, Master."

"A clever plan," Voldemort admitted, "and as devious as I would expect from a Malfoy. Let your DEAR friend know that I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. When I am restored, however, I will demand proof."

Barty was curious when his master paused, but reassured by his next words.

"As for this plan, Barty, I want you to look into it. I will abide by your opinion."

"As you wish, Master."


"She's part Veela," Hermione explained.

"Is that why she looks beautiful?" Harry asked, still looking at the seventh year Beaubatons girl seating herself at the Hufflepuff table.

"She is beautiful," Ron said. Parvati huffed and he laughed. "She is. Not that I'm interested in her."

"You said that to make me feel better," Parvati insisted.

"Well, yeah. I didn't want to hurt your feelings or anything."

"It's not like we're dating or anything. We don't even pretend we are, anymore."

Hermione was amused that Ron looked confused. She was more amused by Parvati's reaction to Ron's answer.

"You're my friend, Parvati. I know you're not special but I don't want you to think someone else is."

"Watch this, Harry," Hermione whispered.

Parvati stared. She was thinking about what Ron had said. Then she smiled. Before Ron could react, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek and said he wasn't special, either.

Hermione turned her head so that neither of them would see her smirk. Harry kept looking at them and whispered that Ron looked happily confused.

The conversation turned to the new arrivals, and how they arrived. A coach drawn by flying horses and a ship rising out of the lake. Harry was commenting that the Headmistress of Beaubatons must be half-giant when Draco sat down next to him.

"You talked to Krum?" Ron suddenly asked.

"A polite conversation." Draco smiled. "He wanted to thank me when he heard what I did that night. In turn, I told him that Luck was a fickle mistress. It made me a hero for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and stole his rightful victory for the same reason."

"Is that why he laughed?" Hermione asked.

"He asked me if I would rather that he won and I lost. He laughed because I replied, 'when you put it that way'."

Ron was surprised at Draco description of Viktor Krum. The Bulgarian was here because of the tournament but his hope was to learn here the things he would not learn at Durmstrang. Hermione's eyes became wide when Draco admitted that she would be the best person to show him the library.

"After the feast," Draco said casually, "he would love it if you would give him a few minutes of your time."

Hermione was surprised. Delightfully surprised. Here was the best seeker in Quidditch and he also wanted to learn. And he was from a different school. She began to wonder what things she could learn from him.

The announcements came before the feast began. The Goblet of Fire was revealed. A huge cup on a plinth, putting the lip of the cup at the height of an average man. Ludo Bagman was introduced as was the new Professor for Defense. Ludo Bagman announced that Dolores Umbridge, time permitting, would also be helping him make sure the tournament ran smoothly.

The rules were explained, and the limitations. Students must be seventeen before the day of the first task in order to put their names in the Goblet, which would be in the front hall. An age line would be placed around the cup to make sure that no one cheated.

That being done, the feast began. It was most notable in that the Durmstrang students tried to eat everything in sight and the Beaubatons students claimed that the food was too heavy.

After the feast, Hermione made her way over to the Slytherin table where the Durmstrang students, and Viktor Krum, were sitting. She was curious. Viktor mouthed her name when she saw her approaching and she nodded. Just then, his headmaster put his hand on Viktor's shoulder, presumably to let him know they were leaving. Viktor's response was to shake the hand off and say something. The Headmaster backed away, then turned and walked off with the rest of his students.

Finally she was close enough to actually talk and be heard.

"I'm sorry. Did he . . ."

Viktor held up his hand. "Do not vorry. Karkaroff is . . . English? . . . prima donna. I am golden goose. You are Her-mi-o-ne?"

"Yes," She held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Draco told me about . . ."

Viktor Krum looked at her hand. "About how I am great Quidditch player?"

Hermione frowned at his look. "NO. About how you wanted to see the library."

"You are not Quidditch fan?"

"It's fun to watch."

"You did not like match?"

"I was hoping it would've lasted longer because we had free food where I was sitting." Hermione blushed. "I'm afraid I like spicy chicken wings better than I like Quidditch."

His laugh was good to hear. It spoke of surprise and pleasure. She assumed he had heard too many people tell him how great he was. He told her she was right. It was wonderful to find out that someone was not impressed by him.

The next day, after he had put his name in the cup, she led the way to the library. She had to tell him. "I did enjoy watching you in the match. Because you're better than Harry. He's Seeker for our house team."

"Is Harry your boyfriend?"

"No. Only a friend."

"But. There is some-vone."

"Well . . ."

"More than vone?"

Hermione laughed. "I guess. John and I are close. He's also in my house. Smartest boy in our year. But there's also Ritchie."

"Vuch house is he in?"

"He's . . . a muggle."

She looked up at Viktor to judge his reaction. He was smiling. He told her why. He thought her amazing for someone who was only fourteen. Did she always judge people on who they were instead of what they were?

Hermione was surprised, again, at how he reacted. As she nodded her head, she understood one thing. She had made a new friend.


"Interesting," Draco said as he touched the Goblet of Fire. "I can fell the spell. It's Master-Class work."

"I remember putting my name in, once." John told him.

"Were you chosen?"

"Of course. And before you ask, I did win. It was easy fighting the trolls but I had a difficult time with the Bicorn, though. It kept wanting to eat the spectators and didn't care about the champions at all."

"You should enter again."

"Can't. You can't put your name in more than once. Even if it's been a couple of centuries."

"Speaking of centuries, when are they installing the age line?"

"Already did. The age line doesn't care about how old you look. It knows how old you are."

"Then that explains why everyone is staring at us."

"Draco?" Colin Creevey called in a loud whisper from the other side of the age line. When Draco looked up, Colin hastily wrote his name on a piece of parchment and held it up. Draco shrugged his shoulders and walked over. He took the parchment and walked back, throwing it into the cup.

"Anyone else?"

"NO", John called out. "You can only put in one name. Ever. And Colin, if they have this again in four years, you're no longer eligible."

Colin smirked as the other students frowned.

Two hours later, Draco and Colin were in the Headmaster's office.

"I have heard, Mister Malfoy, from several sources that you put Mister Creevey's name in the Goblet of Fire."

"Yes, Sir. And if he's chosen, John and I intend to do our best to help him win."

Dumbledore frowned. "And how did you manage to pass the age line?"

"I walked, Sir." He paused while Colin snorted. "It seems that it doesn't matter that I didn't age. Only that I lived more than seventeen years."

"Ah, I had forgotten. And why did you put Colin's name in?"

"To be honest, Sir, he's too short. He couldn't reach the rim and it would look foolish lifting him up. He handed the parchment to me and asked if I would do him the honour."

Draco smiled as the Headmaster's eyes widened.

"And, Mister Creevey, how did you pass the age line?" Colin swallowed hard. "Where were you when you handed Mister Malfoy the parchment?"

"N-N-Next to him, Sir," Colin stuttered.

"How did you pass the age line?"

"Uh-uh-uh."

"Sir," Draco interrupted. "Is it possible that he could have passed the age line because he was next to me? My age could confuse the line because of our proximity." He smiled. Dumbledore would find out the truth, eventually, but this was much more fun.

"Ah, a good explanation. And it would explain why Mister Creevey is so tongue tied. The two of you are dismissed and you may see your head of house about your detentions."

"Thank you, Sir." Draco smiled again and led Colin out of the office as quickly as possible.

"D-D-Detention?" Colin asked, still nervous.

"It's only Professor McGonagall." Draco was still smiling. He then reminded Colin of what Dumbledore thought had happened. Colin's eyes went wide.

"That's . . . I can't wait to tell Dennis." He paused. "What will McGonagall do to us?"

It was one hour since they had left the Headmaster's office. Draco and Colin were back in front of the age line. Professor McGonagall was standing behind them with several curious students watching from the sides. The Transfiguration Professor had heard all of the details. She knew at once that they had lied to the Headmaster. She guessed correctly that it was done for no better reason than it might be fun.

Their punishment was simple. Both of them had to cross the age line and touch the cup. If either of them failed, they were Mister Filch's special helpers until the winter holiday.

Draco put his hand on Colin's shoulder. "Shall we?"

"No rest for the wicked?" Colin muttered helplessly. They stepped forward. They took a second step. A third step. Colin spoke for both of them.

"Bugger all. It did work."