Fighting Darkness
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated source material.
Chapter 1: Secrets
Harry quietly twirled his wand between his two fingers, letting whatever conversation about some school in the north wash over him. Not caring in the slightest that Malfoy was the hot topic of that conversation.
It seemed that something was happening at Hogwarts this year, and nobody would tell Harry what exactly was going on. Hadn't they learned from last year with Sirius? Hadn't they learned to quit keeping him in the dark? His green eyes glanced out the window as he took in the English countryside, it became all but a blur of green and gray plains.
Harry gripped his wand tightly and his green eyes swirled like a maelstrom in angry waters.
There was another voice in the compartment he acknowledged distractedly.
Draco was standing over the rest of the compartment, laughing derisively, what was the ponce laughing about now? Harry spied the direction he was looking and his eyes settled on Ron's… admittedly old fashioned-even for Wizards-robes.
Thinking back, he had no idea what came over him, maybe the accumulated frustration and anger over all the secrecy, all the way back to Dumbledore in his first year and all the events of last year, all the way up to the false hope he had for a normal family that cared about him, all swiped away like a simple incantation of NOX.
Harry whipped his wand out just as Draco found his way to the compartment doorway, Ron following with a murderous look on his face.
All those observations raced through his mind as the spell left his lips, "FLIPPENDO!"
Malfoy's eyes widened and not a second later, he was propelled through the doorway and crashed right into his minions, Crabbe and Goyle, with enough force to send the two heavyweights to the other side of the corridor.
"Wicked!" Ron breathed.
"Harry! That was completely irresponsible!" exclaimed Hermione, trying to admonish Harry, but he wasn't having any of it. He had too much on his mind to be bothered by her nagging-as well-meaning as it was.
Ron sobered up to the situation and pulled the door closed, "COLLOPORTUS"
The sliding door of their compartment clicked as the locking charm took effect, much to Harry's relief. He hadn't actually used the spell practically until that point.
"You know that's not going to help," Hermione shook her head. "Professor Snape is going to know by the end of the feast, If not sooner, and you'll have detention by the end of tomorrow,"
Harry shook his head, "This," he gestured to the locked door, "is to give me some peace and quiet from Malfoy. I knew the moment that the spell left my wand that I was fucked."
"Harry!" Hermione admonished, "Language!"
Harry swallowed whatever reply his mind had concocted for her. She really didn't deserve it. Harry turned back to the window and watched as the English countryside became the Scottish countryside.
"You know-Harry," Harry looked away from the window to Hermione, his shoulders didn't feel as heavy and sky wasn't as dull. "Malfoy said something about what's happening at Hogwarts this year."
And just like that Harry felt the weight return but this time with purpose. "Oh yeah? What did he have to say?" he decided the casual reply would be best for the moment.
"Just that he knew what was going on, dangling it over our heads-because we didn't," Hermione replied. He could tell there was more by the way she bit her lip and glanced at Ron. "He said Mr. Weasley must have been too junior to know the exact facts, or we would have known."
Harry nodded, that would be something that Malfoy would say, and suddenly that small part of him that felt guilty for knee-jerk cursing him faded into nothing.
"Except Mr. Weasley does know what's going on," said Harry offhandedly. More for Ron's sake than anything. Although, to be fair, the only ones out of the loop seemed to be most of the student body without blabbermouth parents.
"No idea why he won't just come clean?" Ron grouched.
"Maybe it's just a surprise?" Hermione offered, she was eyeing a book beside her. "I've read about a lot of traditions in the Wizarding world, maybe this is why your parents were so excited?"
"Tradition…" Harry said the world, tasting it on his tongue as if hearing it for the first time. Of course, these were wizards, almost everything came down to tradition. So, that's why Mrs. Weasley knew about something or the other happening around Christmas. "yeah, makes sense."
Hermione wasted no time, grabbing the book beside her and cracking it open.
Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances. They busied themselves with their own little hobbies. Namely flicking through a Quidditch magazine on Ron's side(of course he was). Harry chuckled silently. He knew Ron liked Quidditch but whatever was behind those pages certainly had nothing to do with Quidditch. He was just lucky that Hermione wouldn't touch a Quidditch magazine with a ten-foot pole.
Harry, on the other hand, spent his time playing with his wand(and not in the risque fashion either), using it to levitate a famous Wizards card that he had got from a chocolate frog he had bought earlier.
He wasn't an avid reader-not like Hermione was-but he did focus on the few subjects that interested him. That narrowed it down considerably; namely to: Defensive and Offensive spells.
Harry twirled the card containing Hesper Starkley around for a moment with a flick of his wrist. Apparently, she was responsible for discovering the effects of different phases of the moon had on potions.
It was interesting if nothing else, still that was sidetracking him, he threw another card into the mix-Parcellus. It was a little exercise in control that Lupin had shown him last year while teaching him the Patronus Charm. In essence, he created a bubble, and whatever he trapped within the bubble would be under his control.
Unfortunately, it wasn't something that he could maintain indefinitely, the amount of focus he needed to maintain the spell was exhausting. The spell itself wasn't all that tiring for Harry, but the willpower he had to exert was something else altogether, and only increased when he added more objects or increased the size of his bubble.
Harry collapsed the bubble after a while, a faint layer of sweat having surfaced just under his hairline, a small trail trickled down over his scar.
It wasn't the only lesson that Lupin had taught him, there was one other that he couldn't wait to begin on. Especially if he considered what the future might hold. Not forgetting what Trelawney had said at the end of last year. Not for a single minute.
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, dampening his knuckles. he dried them off on his faded jeans as he recalled her words: "THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS,
"ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT… BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT… WILL SET OUT… TO REJOIN… HIS MASTER…"
Maybe it was everything that was happening that year, the Dementors, falling off his broom and wrecking one of his most cherished gifts, his Nimbus 2000, and the whole Sirius Black debacle. He hadn't quite realized, he hadn't acknowledged the seriousness of the prophecy. Trelawney was just a loon, right?
Except, there was that dream. Harry swallowed thickly as images of green light rocked through his head, a small child, gray as ash and eyes scarlet as blood was at the forefront.
Maybe it was just a dream, but it felt real enough to Harry but that wasn't enough at the time to alarm him. Not until the Quidditch World Cup. Not until those Death Eaters juggled the Muggles around like clowns putting on a show for the crowd. Not until he saw his mark on showcase in the night sky, that snake slithering through the skull felt just like Voldemort himself. Bastard!
Since then Harry had focused his everything on becoming stronger; he had to be prepared for their next confrontation. His hairs were on edge and his scar tingled. Things were on the move this year and he would bet his bottom Galleon that Voldemort would have something to do with it.
The levitation bubble wasn't the lesson; it was the exercise. The lesson was something Harry hadn't been able to master as of this point, but he felt like he was close. The lesson was something called non-verbal casting.
Essentially it involved casting spells without any incantations. The true value of this skill wouldn't be seen in school and examinations, but rather in life or death scenarios, given Harry's history with life or death situations, he gathered it was a necessity. Maybe if he knew how to silently cast he could have been more helpful during the World Cup.
No words meant faster spell-work and in that same vein if not more important it hid the nature of the spell cast from the enemy. More than anything he had to practice this skill most of all. Harry glanced out the window and watched as hills and humps of Scotland blended into vast green trees that became solid forests.
"We're close to Hogwarts" Hermione supplied, unhelpfully at that. Harry had ridden this train enough to know that. "Do you guys want to take turns getting changed?"
Harry shrugged, "Sure, you can go first then me and Ron will get dressed."
"Ron and I," Hermione tutted. Harry grinned at her scholarly habits, although not kindly.
"Well if you wanted to get changed with Ron all you had to do was say so." Harry returned with a larger grin.
"That's-Ah-Get out, both of you!" exclaimed Hermione red-faced.
"Huh? What did I do?" Ron asked stupidly, finally taking his nose out of his magazine.
"I said OUT!"
Harry cackled while using the unlocking charm to counteract his locking charm from earlier.
Once they were all changed they sat together in the compartment, the anticipation was almost palatable. Hermione was still miffed at him if her furrowed brow and dark glares were anything to judge by.
"Any idea who our Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor is going to be this year?" asked Harry, trying to break the ice.
"No idea, but he can't be any worse than Lockhart can he?" Ron shrugged carelessly. Harry echoed his sentiments.
"I hope they're as good as Professor Lupin," Hermione supplied, "He taught us the most, even if we focused more on dark creatures than defensive spells."
Harry agreed, although, "No I think learning about dark creatures was brilliant; especially since we learned about them from a 'dark creature' himself, who better to teach us? Lupin told me that Voldemort used a lot of dark creatures in the past," he hadn't actually mentioned it. He had more or less read about it. "better to know about it now, than later, you know?"
Like later when they were a foot from your face dripping acidic venom from the mouth.
"Right," agreed Hermione, "Although I'm looking forward to Runes this year. We're finally going to start enchanting objects with runes."
Harry grinned, he could tell she was excited, he could also tell that she had already tried. He had no idea what it all meant, unfortunately, but knowing her she had already tried.
"Actually that has me thinking. How exactly is Runes? Is it useful at all?" asked Harry.
"Definitely more useful than Divination," Hermione snorted but quickly covered her mouth. After a while, she continued, although Harry still wore a slight grin. "Runes are mainly used in curse-breaking and wards but a lot of enchanted jewelry is made with runes. And I just love it! And if you think about the mysteries and legends around runes? It's just fascinating."
Harry had to grin at her enthusiasm. Her earrings swung from side to side as she went on. She hadn't been wearing those last year, Harry realized. She definitely had been playing around with runes.
"I was thinking of transferring to runes actually, Hermione." Harry interrupted.
"Wait what?" exclaimed Ron, finally getting a foothold into the conversation. "from where?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "He's leaving Divination, of course."
Harry nodded. "You're right, Divination is absolutely useless to me right now." and it wasn't because he thought Trelawney was a fraud. Far from it actually, but the class was a waste of his time. Half the time he spent his homework hours pulling answers out of his arse.
"So what? You're going to leave me alone in divination?" Ron was hurt. He felt like Harry was abandoning him. Why couldn't he understand how serious things were getting? "Who am I going to drink tea with? Neville."
Harry would have snorted if the conversation wasn't so serious. "Ron, you saw what happened at the world cup. You remember what happened last year. Pettigrew escaped with nowhere else to go. Where do you think he went?" Harry didn't usually share with anyone. It was uncomfortable and highly unusual. When you grew up with no friends and family that scorned your existence you learned to keep everything to yourself: bottled up and buried. "We have to stop messing around. We aren't kids anymore. When things start going bad-and they will-we have to be ready."
"Alright, I guess you're right," Ron relented, slightly mollified. He was still troubled by something, Harry had known him long enough to understand that. He'd come around, Harry's mind supplied with confidence that Harry didn't know he had.
"Well I think its wonderful," Hermione gushed, she rushed to her trunk, lowering it with a flick of her wand and intonation of her tongue. It found purchase on the train floor and she was already pilfering through the trunk while humming, occasionally he'd hear, "No, not this one…" and when she pulled out a book she would say, "Only about a week…" or "A couple of days at most-".
Once she was finished, there was a stack of about seven books, and she closed her trunk. At least she stopped there Harry mused quietly, although he had no idea what her game was.
"And that?" Harry asked, and now that he thought about it, it became clearer and clearer.
"Well, these are my course books from last year, since you want to take runes I thought that I'd help you out. If you work hard enough you can catch up in no time." Hermione's grin became full-grown now. "Oh, Harry I'm so glad that you're going to join me in runes. It's about time you left that good for nothing class. Really, who even uses that class anyway?"
"You're just jealous that you don't have the inner eye," Harry laughed, gaining the stink-eye from both Hermione and oddly… Ron. Harry shrugged, he had better things to worry about, such as the mountain of books in front of him. "Anyway, are all of these the course books for Runes?" He hoped not.
"No, only four of them," Hermione replied nonchalantly. "The rest are guides and reference material."
"Ahh, only four… That's not so bad then," ONLY FOUR? Had she gone utterly mental? What did she think? He could master a course in three months when the previous year had four books for one single subject! He didn't have a bloody time-turner Hermione. "I guess I better get started."
"Well if you going to start now, Professor Babbling always said the best book to start on is: "The Hanging Tree". I preferred, "Set in Stone" myself, but I can see what she means." Hermione explained.
Harry nodded, not really understanding but thinking he would listen regardless. You just had to get serious about your studies, didn't you, Potter?
Harry somehow made space in his four-year-old trunk and stuffed the rest of his books haphazardly inside. He shut the trunk and cast a locking charm for extra measure.
Harry guessed that there was an hour at most left until the arrived at Hogsmeade station, more than enough time to get through the introduction.
By the time the train had reached Hogsmeade station Harry was well into his book, wearing extra layers under his school robes for extra measure.
The wind outside had brought on a slight chill, and in the last stretch of the journey, it had started raining. First, a light drizzle that sprayed a fine mist over the train window. But it had only got heavier, and much more windy from thereon.
The Hanging Tree was more than interesting, and Harry understood why Professor Babbling recommended it as a starting point. It was thin(something he considered actual light reading) and it detailed the origins of runes through stories. True, there wasn't any practical or theoretical material concerning runes, this seemed to be more history or maybe the legends surrounding runes.
He had finished the introduction quickly but was only mid-way into the first chapter and he was loving it so far. He did, however, skim ahead, and he found a lot of the material from the first chapter; as if the further pages were analyzing the first chapter.
The train came to a halt and Harry stuffed the book into his clothes, under his robes. He hardly thought that there would be enough space in his trunk for another book. As it is, it was being held together by a well-placed locking charm.
In a matter of moments, the trio joined the throng of students as they all dashed to find a carriage to deliver them to the castle, whilst simultaneously trying to shelter themselves from the rain.
"This is mental!" exclaimed Ron as his feet slid through the mud. Harry gave him his own arm for support whilst the other held his wand-who knew what would pop out of the shadows.
"Honestly, hasn't anyone ever heard of umbrellas?" Hermione snipped, conveniently forgetting that she too was lacking in that area.
Harry was sure there was a spell for this somewhere, if his glasses could be protected, why not his entire body? He'd have to look into that at a later, for now though, mud-sliding seemed to be the in-thing.
They had even past a couple of Slytherins who had slid into some poor native of Hogsmeade. Harry shook his head, and he didn't have time for much, because he was forced to let go of Ron and grab onto Hermione.
"Thanks, Harry," she muttered just as they reached their long-awaited carriage.
"No problem," he returned offhandedly. Look at them, the year hadn't even started and they were already in trouble(if you didn't count the Quidditch World Cup anyway).
The ride up to the gates was uncomfortable to say the very least, wind buffeting the side windows of the carriage, rain pelting and the screech of the carriage wheels every time it had to auto-correct, shifting and sliding and there was nothing the trio could do but cling on to each other.
Call Harry paranoid, but he still clung on to his wand, he wasn't all-together sure what he would do if their carriage decided to tip over sideways. On the other hand, it would be a good time to experiment with the levitation charm.
"The rain is absolutely horrible today," commented Hermione who unconsciously clung onto Ron.
"Horrible? Horrible is treacle tart missing from the great hall." Ron shook his head. "This is-this is-"
"A disaster." Harry finished for him. "None of my Quidditch matches have been this bad. Not even the one where I lost my broom."
It wasn't much longer and their carriages came to a stop. It was bittersweet. On one hand, they were relieved that the disaster wagon came to a stop, however, they had to return to terrible weather.
They all put their brave faces on and said, "Let's go."
Moving as fast as they could, they entered the gates, passing a pair of winged boar statues. Harry always thoughts there was more to the name Hogwarts than he first thought. It would be an interesting research project for history if nothing els-he had to get out of this rain; he was starting to sound like Hermione.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron had managed to get up the stairs without incident, Harry still clutching his wand, he heard a commotion as he scaled the stairs. Peeves the friendly yet troubled poltergeist floated above them cackling wildly.
It set him on edge, much like a serious Weasley twin, and if both were serious then you were monumentally screwed. Acting quickly-employing reflexes that only his seeker skills could harvest-he pulled onto Hermione who still clung to Ron.
Her hair was all frizzy and poofed up like a lions mane, Harry noticed in the minute seconds it took for the great orange balloon-obviously filled with water or something worse(who knew)-to fly through the air.
They had only just avoided the balloon and yet water went flooding through Harry's shoes, soaking his socks and leaving him uncomfortably cold.
Not one to give rest, Peeves launched another, this one more focused, and altogether too fast to avoid.
"Peeves!" exclaimed the all too familiar voice of Professor McGonagall, stern and rigid as it was.
The balloon came into view and Harry only just reacted, and outward jab of his wand and a flick of his wrist. FLIPENDO!
The Balloon rippled, slow and anguishing, before rocking away and bursting forth into his Head of House Professor McGonagall. Only much later that night would he realize that hadn't made any incantations.
"P-POTTER!" spluttered McGonagall, now just as soaked as the rest of the students.
"Uh-sorry?" Harry tried. There wasn't any way to get out of this one. He had cast a spell without regard for anyone around him. It was pure reflex, really it was.
"Blimey-" Ron breathed, and then silently added. "Wicked."
"Ron!" Hermione elbowed him the ribs. "Obviously Harry hadn't intended on cursing Professor McGonagall. Right, Harry?"
"Ah-huh," Harry grunted, transfixed by the stern glare his professor gave him. Unwavering like a ferocious feline, and nothing at all like her cat form. A small part of his mind-trying to console him, perhaps-pictured Snape to be on the receiving end.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" McGonagall said in a deathly calm tone. "get inside."
Even Peeves had left, either impressed with his chaos or ultimately afraid of McGonagall's quiet rage. The students followed suit, Harry faster than all others, but just as he reached the doors' threshold he halted, quite suddenly.
Harry looked at his shoes. They were stuck to the floor, he realized. "Mr. Potter, a moment if you would?"
He would rather not, yet he knew it wasn't a request. His feet became unstuck a second later. The rest of the students couldn't wait to get inside, although, there were those from Slytherin that couldn't help but walk a little slower.
McGonagall waited, and she waited, and the last of the students had entered the Great Hall. Her nostrils were still flaring but considerably less so. "You are lucky the year has not officially started or you would be serving detention, Mr. Potter."
"Well if you could keep control of the castle inhabitants instead of relying on Professor Dumbledore and the Slytherin House ghost, this wouldn't have happened." Harry had wanted to say but instead settled for. "Understood."
"Now off you go unless you want to be sorted for a second time," replied McGonagall.
Maybe he should have requested a second sorting. He shook his head, what was the other option? Snape as a Head of House? Yeah, that'll be a laugh he thought has he walked the great doors of the Great Hall.
Ignoring all the heads that turned his way, he focused on staff table, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; unfortunately, there wasn't anyone new at table. Could he have not found one?
Harry quickly snuggled his way between Hermione and Ron, his feet still soaked. At this point, he could care less about food. He just wanted to get out of the wet clothes and into his warm bed. He could probably sneak down to the kitchen later if he really had to.
Now the question was, how to get out of there without anyone noticing. That would be tricky, especially with everyone's eyes unconsciously finding purchase on him, no matter the situation. He could imagine the stories that would be spread after he had blasted a water balloon into-and Harry couldn't believe, even though he should have expected it-the currently dry McGonagall. It must have been a trick of the light because Harry could have sworn that he saw her smirk almost smugly in his direction.
"Hey Harry-" Greeted the ever enthused Colin Creevey. Harry was only relieved that he didn't seem to have his camera on him. Thank Merlin for the small mercies.
"Hi Colin, had a good summer?" Harry asked politely. He didn't hate Collin. He was just a bit… much.
"It was great-and you know what else? My brother Dennis starts this year." grinned Colin.
"Oh great another one," Ron mouthed to Harry. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snorting.
"That sounds…great," Harry replied. He hoped that this "Dennis" didn't carry around a camera like his brother.
"D'you think he'll be in the same house? I really hope he is. That would be the best y'know?" enthused Colin. Harry really didn't and a small part of him was hoping that the kid went to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Anything was better, even Slytherin. Just as long as it kept the Creevey duo out of his hair; his rather hair come to it.
"Ah-I mean I'm sure he will be. Look at the Weasley's, not one of them in another house. Siblings usually get sorted into the same house, right Hermione?" Harry asked in hopes of her taking his attention.
"Not necessarily. Look at Padma and Parvati-Patil I mean. Padma is a Ravenclaw and Parvati is in Gryffindor. And they're twins, the chances are really quite mixed." she replied.
Nice going, Hermione. Harry had to shake his head. Colin needed reassurance and, Harry was sure he saw him fingering a cord around his neck-not a cord, a camera strap he realized.
They all waited tensely for the first years to enter the Great hall. Ron often complaining about wanting to eat. "Merlin, could they hurry up? I could eat three Hippogriffs at this point." Hermione shot Ron a heated glare. "What? Okay, maybe not a whole Hippogriff."
Harry could understand where it came from, considering Buckbeak was slated for the chopping block in their third year and it wasn't that long ago. Although, what was she expecting? This was Ron. He put his foot in his mouth enough to call it a hygiene practice.
The first years were soon shuffled in, dripping water on the Hogwarts floor. They sure were a sorry bunch, none more so than a mousy haired boy that looked like a young-well younger-Colin. Harry saw that particular boy mouthing something to Colin which he obviously understood because he nodded excitedly in return.
Harry pulled his book from his robes and cracked it open to the section he had ear-marked, ignoring the sour look Hermione had sent him. Convenient of her though, since it looked as if more than a few pages had received the treatment before Harry had even got there.
"In Modern day, Odin of the Hanging tree-often thought of(and spoken of as a God)-is thought to be a myth to his very own people. A mythical legend to explain away their runes. Some thought him to be real, and have spent their life in proving his existence."
Harry let the buzz of the great hall fall over him as he got into the meat of the chapter. He heard the Great hall break out in applause and he joined them halfheartedly. Returning focus to his book; he couldn't help but think he had wasted his entire third year on divination.
The sorting was over, and none too soon, in Harry's opinion. Now he only had to get through dinner and he'd be up in Gryffindor Tower. His four-poster bed with their scarlet curtains called to him, soft and devious.
Their dinner wasn't an uneventful one, Harry had to admit. "I don't care. I'm not eating. Not if this food was prepared with slave labor!"
Harry avoided the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Not this again! Ever since she had heard of the Wizard practice of keeping elves in their homes she had been quite… annoying. He didn't like speaking about his friends in such an unflattering manner but it was true.
Harry did some reading in his second year concerning house-elves-Dobby's repeated invasion of his privacy out him starkly on edge-and from what he could garner, they somehow fed off of Wizards. Honestly, he had no idea what exactly they took from Wizards and Witches because each book-granted he had only read the three-leaned at the elves taking a different portion of the Wizard or Witch. Some said that they fed off magic, and the same author mentioned that they not only fed off the magic of the master or mistress in question but the very bond that was formed between the two.
In another book, The Master and the Servant: The Doorway to Madness: this book alluded to the elf in question leeching off the mental prowess of their master, sustaining themselves on it until the master went completely mad and then the elf, in turn, went bonkers.
The last and most startling theory was that through the servant bond, they could leach their Master or Mistress' soul, much like a Dementor. It happened slowly and over a long life, but it was, apparently, one of the very reasons why elves were so long-lived. Sometimes living for many, many generations.
Harry wasn't sure which one seemed more logical, and logical didn't always mean correct when it came to magic. Part of him was leaning to either Magic or Mental leaching because of the elves at Hogwarts, he had heard many times that Hogwarts was a sentient being, and sometimes even spoken of as a person-mostly by Dumbledore and sometimes by the portraits.
"Well if you don't eat it, wouldn't their tireless labor be for nothing?" asked Harry. "Not eating isn't going to reverse the damage. You can't go putting toothpaste back into the tube, can you?"
Harry saw Hermione struggling, she bit her lip, and finally gave in. Nibbling on a chicken leg as it may be poisoned. Well, it was a start.
On their way up to the common room that night Harry was reeling. The big bad event that was taking place that year was something called the Triwizard Tournament. Apparently, it had been barred as of recent years because of the massive death toll associated with it.
The Triwizard tournament also meant that Quidditch was postponed for that year, and it was absolutely something Harry didn't need to hear. He was looking forward to playing Quidditch this year-especially after what he had seen in the world cup.
Something that should have laid his worries (about something fierce coming-for him-this year) at ease, was the stipulation-a rather new one in fact-that only those of age could enter the tournament. That meant anyone at the age of seventeen could enter and they would be joined by two other individuals-both of whom would hail from different schools.
Harry was sure that Ron and Hermione may have mentioned one of the Schools from abroad, Durmslang was it? Not that it mattered.
Harry had played Quidditch since his first year, and he was rather good; however, it wasn't allowed. The school or rather two of his professors had broken the rules for him. That much, he had to admit. So, it would be more than reasonable to assume-especially considering his history-that the whole age restriction thing was utter bollocks and he would somehow be roped into the tournament.
Maybe he was just being paranoid, but-
"Don't you think it would be brilliant to win a thousand galleons, Harry-Harry, you okay there mate?" Ron gripped him on the shoulder.
"Huh, yeah I'm fine. just got loads to think about right now. That's all." Harry attempted to placate his friend.
Maybe it would be best not to think about the stupid tournament, it had already set him on edge. All he wanted to do was get into bed, read the hanging tree and get some rest. Even without thinking about the tournament, other thoughts seemed to plague his already scatter-brained head.
Those images of child-Voldemort-childmort? Or maybe Voldechild? Whatever he was called, the images were the same. Even when he thought about Wormtail it made him ill. To think he was his parent's friend and he betrayed them. Over what? Fear, jealousy or maybe other petty grievance. That made him think that almost anyone could be the next Peter Pettigrew; or even the next Voldemort for that matter.
Finally, the covers were over his pajama-clad legs, and Harry sighed in content. He fingered his wand and cast a Lumos over his book. Come to think of it, that spell he had cast at McGonagall, it was the knockback jinx. He knew it was, but he didn't remember saying anything. Could he have cast non-verbally? Had he come that far? No, not possible.
Harry focused his attention on the hanging tree, casting all other thoughts aside. He couldn't waste any time if he was serious about getting into runes.
Maybe this year would be the year for him to study magic and have fun without the threat of a two-faced Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor or a giant snake that could kill at a glance, or even a mass-murdering godfather.
Maybe he was just being paranoid, and the most excitement he'd get would be as a spectator to the Triwizard Tournament. Yes, that sounded quite nice; he decided as he turned the page.
AN: I may have skimmed over the tournament and a lot of the conversation that happened in the train, but that was for two reasons. First, harry was very introspective due to taking the events of the Quidditch World cup much more seriously and secondly I didn't feel like rehashing conversations from the book.
As far as pairings go, I have a very high inclination to go down the path of Haphne or HP/DG. Ive always liked stories where Harry was paired with Daphne, so I'll take a shot at one of those too. Any feed back is welcome.