I do not own anything, except my own storyline and OC's, Just FYI.

After the sixth day of practical classes where Harry could not perform a spell with his wand, he knew he had an issue. The problem was that he was very limited in those who might know what he was going through, and those he trusted to give him a straight answer. Dumbledore was the eldest, but he often spoke in riddles when advice was sought, which was incredibly annoying. But, seeing as there were likely few who would know what he was talking about, it was really the best option.

Though now that he'd had a chance to speak with Draco about the Wars, there were a few things he could now acknowledge. Gallifrey was destroyed, so that explained why Wizards at the very least hadn't been returned to their homeworld, having become a mostly peaceful society, and why some might actually have information on where the Human species originated. In theory, no one would have known, lest they had some way to draw a conclusion. So this Survivor was the last of his Planet... Extraordinary, and fascinating.

They were supposed to hold some of the greatest secrets of the Universe, as the original natives. At least, they evolved from the Original Natives. The information they could have held… Well, perhaps he could find some way to travel between planets. The Muggles had certainly done a mighty fine job so far. That he could praise them on.

He arrived at the Gargoyle in front of the steps, and rapped on its head lightly. When that didn't work, he assumed Prefects had some sort of secret about it, so he called up for Dumbledore to hear him. When it backed away, he climbed up and tore the door open, not wishing to have to hear the old man essentially brag about his magic-detecting skills and took a chair.

'Sir, I'll keep this short and sweet. Recently, my skills in wandless magic have hit a jumpstart, and I can make small transfigurations, along with any second year spell. But I've been unable to perform any wand-based magic. You're the most knowledgeable person I know, do you know what's going on?' Dumbledore smiled, merely a testament to how often this happened.

'Yes. The magic in our body, your 'Magical Core' is growing. You've entered puberty recently, and as such your growth rate is reaching its apex. So is your core. Recent studies have shown that when this occurs, it lasts for 2 weeks, then you will experience far more control.'

'So it makes me stronger?'

'No. For lack of a better term, it is simply opening wider. The Soul, where magic is stored, has reached a point where it begins to shape itself into something more solid, at least in nature. As such, you will begin to experience more control over your magic. Whereas before you were more likely to overpower a spell, it will now allow you to imagine what you want the result to be. It is also more dangerous, as if you imagine a result bigger than you can naturally produce, our magic will strain to accomplish this, taking energy from your very being. So, if you pour too much effort into it, you can die.' A frown grew on Harry's face.

'But before, if you tried it, the resultant explosion would only impact how your magic would mature?'

'Yes. As I've told you, if you tried to produce, for example, a Bombarda that would destroy a city street, but could only really destroy a light, before you would simply stunt your magic from maturing too much, how many squibs are born. But now, you would kill yourself.' Harry sighed. Nothing was ever easy.

'I've heard many conflicting theories on a Magical Core, even from you, what exactly is it?'

'No one truly knows. Some suspect an organ that can create magic, something it is small things in your cells that channel it, some believe it is your soul. It is my belief that the latter lies true, from experience. While biology of Muggles and Magicals would suggest it is simply an extra organ, I think it is something tied inherently to our benign nature that King Magic, Lady Rationality and Lord Forethought come together and choose who gets magic.' He paused, and Harry let it settle before nodding for the old man to continue.

It is not about who we are, more who we choose to become, and how magic will impact that decision, and how we will shape the future. If there are key individuals, such as yourself or Voldemort, who require it to allow the future we see now, they will be given it. Otherwise, it is simply luck of the draw, that they decided you may get it. And, quite obviously, they seem to use it to hint at certain things. The power of a bloodline, the dangers of inbreeding, the like. It is why the Emrys and Peverell lines are historically God-Like in power, and why some of the Ancient bloodlines are producing weak children, whereas Muggleborn demonstrate themselves stronger.' Harry accepted the answer, seeing the logic.

'Many disagree with me, and sometimes I even contradict this behaviour, but I do not see Magic as something that inherently makes us above Muggles. It certainly produces an advantage, and I know Minerva might disagree, but I see it as a power that our Gods gave us so that we might see success, in the path we are predestined to walk. In a fight, a Magical might beat a Muggle, but they are far more likely to work together when under pressure, despite their differences, than a Wizard or Witch. It is why our governments are afraid of them, because when it comes down to it, they will join together to destroy us rather than see themselves fall apart.' Dumbledore looked down, disappointed. Harry disagreed with his points, but there was logic behind them, he could see how the old man could come to these conclusions, and could also imagine himself coming around.

'The Unity of every country's forces comes under threat of our survival, and believe me in any other situation they would be squabbling like rats over a carcass. We will destroy the Muggles, but we could also face extinction if we don't do it before they find us. Great leaps have been made in the last ten years in terms of acceptance, but that is pointless if those in power are sloppy now. That is why I hate Cornelius Fudge and his desire for the Triwizard Tournament. He does not do it out of care, but in the hope to spit in others faces and say England is superior. And yes, he is English, incredibly patriotic at that. So he does see Scotland, Wales and Ireland as weaker.' Harry understood, but had to break the monologue.

'So you think the Magical Core is simply an extra part of our soul, that allows us to access that primordial force so the path our futures are destined for may be reached, and Muggles equal Magicals in their ability to come together in the end, whereas Magicals almost always refuse to do so?'

'Yes, I supposed that is accurate. Each species has different advantages and disadvantages. Most of our population disagrees with me, but I hope you see I am right.' The Ravenclaw tapped his fingers together, twiddling his thumbs in his lap as he mulled it all over.

'You most definitely have a point. I do ask whether you know that Humans aren't natives of Earth?' His eyebrow raised. This was for all the marbles, if the Old Man knew, then his advice would mean far more.

'And where did you hear such a thing?' Dumbledore's expression betrayed nothing.

'A book.' He wasn't lying, exactly, he had read it. After he'd been told.

'Yes, I do know. I also know it is far too complicated, and many biological structures have been impeded for growing. It will take sometime before we are back to what we were.'

'I suppose you are right. I do ask... What do you think of the destruction of Gallifrey? How it will affect our future?' Albus sat up, and stared him hard in the eyes. While there was no Legilimency, the piercing gaze shocked Harry, as the reaction was quite odd.

'Gallifrey was an important planet. The oldest. So who is to say it was destroyed? Could it not have lived on and we would not know? After all, we are not what we once were.' It was odd. The Old Man was avoiding it. Almost as if…

'It isn't gone, is it?'

'Perhaps. We may never know, I believe it will be many generations in the future the truth shall be confirmed. Or perhaps it will be uncovered soon. Who knows.' Harry was growing frustrated. Dumbledore knew the truth, and was hiding it. But nothing would be gained by yelling at the man. But….

'Sir, isn't there supposed to be a Wizengamot meeting today?'

'No, but I do have some business to attend to. I imagine you shall see yourself out?' Harry nodded as the Old Man moved to the fireplace and disappeared into the floo, barely noting the name of where he left as he quickly walked over to the bookshelf, ignoring the desk. It was heavily warded, to the point even his miniscule Magic-Detecting abilities could figure that out. But the books… perhaps they would hold something.

He skimmed over them, ignoring the more boring ones, deciding to ask to borrow the one on Alchemy, until his finger rested on the most unique. It was odd only in that it appeared completely undamaged. Whereas the other ones showed wear that came with Time, the words were clear as day, reminding him of the Mirror. So he pulled it out, and rested his hands on the cover, drifting over the leather like you would brush a horse. The words, so perfectly formed, read simply:

'The Deceit of War'

Carefully prying it open, as if it would turn to dust at the wrong touch, he read passage after passage. It swallowed him as his fascination simply grew. It spoke of how history was lost when wars were fought, and that secrets could win them with a few well-put hints toward the right people. Yet it then got into philosophy and science, leading him to believe it was less a book and more a journal. It was one piece that really got him though, that really affected him;

'Many believe friendship is weak, a distraction. Not true. Without it, countless wars would have ended differently. You must embrace them, get closer and make them loyal, if it takes your life so be it, for you will know they shall carry on your legacy in your absence as you pass into the Nether World.

Much in this world is Chaos, and much of it is unknown. You will find many conflicting words, many different theories and beliefs. Some think Muggles are weak, some on par, some stronger. The Magical Core could be an unknown organ, or connected to the soul, as I believe. But with your friends and loved ones, you may just find the path clears itself for you.'

He'd ignored his friends lately, despite promises to bring them closer, and he knew it was a mistake now. All he could do was try and make amends, build back those bridges, and perhaps his Destiny would become clear.

Never did he notice the twinkling pair of eyes behind half-moon spectacles watching him from afar.

He quickly sprinted to the library, finding a corner and pulling out the book. Perhaps it would hold more wisdom, something he could use to defeat Voldemort. He had considered asking Dobby, but the little elf had been a bit too clingy since he'd been freed. Lucius was quite the willing seller when Sirius Black had arrived on his doorstep. After the elf had saved his life, admittedly by attempting to kill him, he felt there was a debt he ought to repay, and it was the only way he really knew.

Just as he sat down and began the Journal, his eyes strayed away. Another title, much like the one he held in his hands was calling to him. It felt… off. As he set the book down and moved towards it, the tugging became stronger. Fear began to manifest as he trailed a finger along the spine, as a chill was sent up his back. It was Dark, definitely Dark. But hadn't Draco said his Family would have been Dark by today's standards?

Deciding a quick look through wouldn't hurt, he pulled it out, opening it as delicately as he had the other. Everything about it seemed to be the antithesis of the other, Dark and Light spells intermixed, telling of how Balance was the key to it all, and the Grey was far more powerful than either side. When he flipped to the front, it simply read:

'The Thoughts and Explorations of the Sentinel.'

Going to the back, curiosity blooming inside, he turned to the last page. There were only a few words written, and just as he began questioning how such a Novel arrived in the Hogwarts Library, he began to read. It allowed something else to sprout, whereas the other was like a flower in spring, this was like shadow under a tree.

'Many praise the ability to Love, and it is most definitely key to understanding some of the most important aspects of magic. Yet, they always ignore the antipode of the strong emotion. The one even the Department of Mysteries refuses to study despite the advantages it provides, one that should you master as much as you might Love, you may very well find yourself with a power that few could ever hope to control, yet reveals many secrets Wizards, Witches, Gallifreyans, gods, even the King of Magic have sought to hide. It is one that when combined with its converse, can make you a god.

So Just remember: Hate is just as important as Love.'

As Harry read, there was a connection. He slowly pulled out his wand, and moved away, dropping the book as it slipped from his fingers, while he entered a trance-like state, and moved to the lawn. Nobody seemed to notice as he walked, unlike normal, all the while he moved to the stairs, sipping out the large oak doors, and moved onto the soft grass.

As he tread across the grounds, his wings began to itch, a sign he had held them in too long. So, allowing them to pull free, the Ravenclaw stood in front of the large boulder by the Black Lake. Before, he'd managed to shatter it in several hits, but now, as he readied himself, channeled all his emotions, he breathed in, and out. In, and out.

In, and out.

Moving into position, he pulled his hand back slightly, and screamed in rage as he launched his most powerful explosion, tearing apart the magical resistant boulder and the grounds surrounding it. His magic was back. His power returned. Now, he could train once more, practice all the spells he'd been working on memorizing for some time. Voldemort and Dumbledore could have torn the Castle down, they had what he needed and wanted. Skill and experience.

He would become more powerful. He would destroy Voldemort, end the man's reign and rebuild, bringing back the Order his Chaos had caused. His skills would be unrivaled, and he would become what he was destined to be. All his friends, his family, would be safe.

Just as he'd missed the eyes from before, he did not see the Black Feather float down on the ground in front of the destruction he had caused, when he retracted his wings.

As all the students lined up for the arriving students, Harry watched the sky, figuring they would arrive from the air, as Apparition and Portkey were impossible at Hogwarts. As such, he wasn't surprised when a carriage flown by Abraxans, as Trip identified, landed on the grounds. From the beautiful blue and purple wooden doors opened, came a steady stream of older students, which he figured were all 7th years.

At the last of the line was an especially pretty girl, along with a very large woman, whose height matched Hagrid. Dumbledore had asked him, along with Trip, to stand by the Headmaster as his star pupils. While they couldn't enter, their scores, more than likely a result of their power and extra training, were record breaking. As such he wanted them to be present as a show of power, even having Harry let his wings free and both allow their auras to present themselves, much like him.

When the large woman's eyes landed on them, her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline, too distracted to even acknowledge Hagrid. The girl next to her was surprised as well, though there was much more control. When Harry looked into her eyes, he realised she was a Veela. Or... the daughter of one.

'A Delacour…' He whispered, remembering Draco's lessons. He quickly schooled himself and scratched at his wrist, thinking it over quickly. Supposedly there was something about him that revealed his heritage, so using his Occlumency, he reached inside himself, tearing apart that piece of him. The air felt colder, and Dubmledore gave him a side-glance, his expression unreadable. But thankfully, the look of lust in the Delacours face was replaced with that of a stony frown, to which Harry smirked as he entrapped the Libidine aspect of himself inside a lockbox in his mind.

He watched as the Durmstrang students arrived via ship, and he admired the magic needed. As such he allowed his aura to grow, and he noted that the Delacour gave him a small scowl, yet there was a strange look in her eyes, lately that was growing more and more common. Deciding to ignore it, he brought one of his wings towards him, preening them.

And yet as he was doing this, Daphne watched him, curious as to how he would react to Fleur Delacour. But when she failed to act, she decided that it was probably Draco messing with her. She knew they had some bet going on, and she did not intend to acquiesce to their wants. As she watched, she didn't notice Luna coming up to her, taking the chance as almost every eye was drawn to the Beauxbatons students entering the school.

'Don't trust him.'

'What?' Her eyes widened, as she looked at the little girl, who had seemed so positive of her Betrothed. Yet her eyes were distant now, an odd look.

'He has a sliver of ice in his heart, and it's growing. Something is about to happen that will make it worse, and I suspect that the world will come to regret it. Darkness is rising, and I don't know if His Light will survive it. As it says… And like Phoenix they must Rise of Ash, As Shadow Births from Light's Clash.' It was familiar to her, but she couldn't recall. Deciding to look it up later, her attention was drawn to the lake where a Ship was rising from the Sea. Likely Durmstrang.

But Luna's words refused to leave her head, and worry began to grow. She just hoped Harry would survive the upcoming battles.

Read & Review Plz

I may pick this story up again one day, but for now, I shall leave you with the chapters pre-written. Honestly, the amount of criticism and lackthereof constructiveness killed it for me, especially since I was using it to improve. As such, I may continue this on Ao3, but definitely not here.

Beginning of 33:

The Great Hall was filled to the brim with anticipation as Dumbledore stood over the Goblet of Fire. Harry himself was somewhat bored, as he'd found renewed interest in spending time with his friends. Tom had apparently found someway to pass the Age Line, even though he'd been present for the boy's collapse when he'd been stunned before the paper had been thrown in. Yet the gloating had kept coming, and was quickly getting on the Ravenclaws nerves.

When the lights went out, leaving only the candles, the entire Hall was silent. The Goblet flashed blue, and Dumbledore outstretched a ring-adorned hand to grasp the slip of parchment. His expression unreadable, he turned to the student contingent, and called clearly:

'Viktor Krum!'

Everybody clapped, Harry included, as the Quidditch Star left his spot at the Gryffindor Table To regain the slip from the Headmaster, who gave a comforting smile. Quickly slipping down a corridor off to the side, while the old man turned back to the ancient artifact, that would seal many fates with a single decision.

'The Champion for Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, is Fleur Delacour!'

The Woman stepped up, taking the slightly-singed paper from his hand, giving a fake smile to her classmates and followed Krum. Now, it was the Hogwarts champion. Many were heralding Cedric Diggory and Angelina Johnson as the obvious candidates, but Harry couldn't help a tugging unease in his stomach. It was halloween, the time when things always went badly, whether it be terrible classes, the Death of his parents, embarrassment, his luck simply seemed to dish out everything it could on the one day so the rest of the year could turn out amazing.

When the Goblet glowed blue, and Dumbledore gripped the piece like a lifeline, eyes bulging and quickened breaths, Harry knew he was completely, utterly fucked. He was so screwed, there wasn't anything funny about it. So he merely stood up, took the piece and sighed in disappointment. He'd have to ask Seveerus on ways to prove he wasn't lying. So he merely entered the Champions room, as stunned silence trailed after him.

'What izz eet? Where iz ze 'Ogwarts Champion?' The Veelas stare was calculating, but instead of shrinking back he stood tall, despite being absolutely terrified. His abilities might be great, but he couldn't stand toe-to-toe with Seventh years, who had learned spells in their three years that despite all his research he wouldn't be able to compare. They were chosen because they were the best of the best, likely finishing their OWLS in Os, and would complete their NEWTS the same way despite the tournament.

'Ve do not 'ave all day, boy, Tell us, Vor iv Vey need us, ve must be vere immediately.' Both were straightforward, but he suspected Viktor to be the more subtle of the two. You dont go your entire life being a Quidditch Star without learning to keep your secrets, and Fleur had likely been dealing with so many suitors she'd have started telling them, quite bluntly, no. She seemed incredibly abrasive.

'My name came out of the Goblet.' He waved the slip. 'So I am now bound to compete.' Viktor merely narrowed his eyes, but Fleur actually growled. That was when voices could be heard arguing, Dumbledore clear and calm over them all.

'We simply do not know what happened. Jumping to conclusions is a dangerous prospect, Madam.' it washed over him like a bucket of cold water, as he truly thought about what he was stuck in. A game designed to test the abilities of those three years his senior. He'd almost certainly never win, and he had no doubt many would call him a cheat. He could hardly blame them, his name came out in place of a normal 7th year,when he wasn't even supposed to be able to enter.

'Harry, please, settle this debate for us. Did you enter your name into the Goblet of Fire?' His humour at a time like this, while inappropriate, allowed the Ravenclaw to relax, even if just a bit, and unleash a small chuckle. Unfortunately, that was the wrong response.

'Well of course, 'e entered! Iz name came out of zee goblet, did eet not?'

'I will not stand for this Dumbledore, The boy is a cheat! He will die, it is for his own good he does not compete!' Karkaroff seemed concerned for his well being, until Harry considered why he was attempting to deny him entrance. If he had managed to cross the age line, theoretically that meant his abilities at age 14 surpassed those of Dumbledores, he who was heralded as the strongest of the times. It was true, but he doubted his power could ever match the Old Man's skill and experience, and as such the chances of him managing to cross that line was nigh on impossible. Karkaroff was afraid, and wanted to secure his Victory.

'I did not. Is there any way I could prove this?'

'Veritaserum would work, but that would risk spilling far too many secrets than is worth it. You know things the Houses of Potter and Black would take to their graves, for that I have no doubt. And you are 14, it would be illegal.' Severus voiced his opinion, and it received nods from the room. As the Potions Master, he would know.

'The only other possible solution would be a Magical Vow, and I am afraid that is not how it works. It is a binding between two magicks, not a lie detection. Anyone care for a Lemon Drop?' The old man held out a mysteriously procured bowl of the Muggle candy, once again attempting to lighten the mood. Harry took one, and immediately felt a wave of calmness was over. He let it happen, the drought was necessary fro the moment.

'Vell then, ve are out of options. I believe the boy, but it seems I have few allies. Ve must ignore this, vas there not a magical contract?' Bagman seemed to appear out of thin air, much like Crouch, and Harry finally realised they were even present. He'd been getting lackluster in his observations.

'Yes, and we must explain to you the first task! And for which, we will tell you nothing, akey part of any witch or wizard is courage in the face of the unknown! As such, we shall all be signing his document, thank you Mr Crouch, that prevents us from any sort of action in informing the Champions!' The Head of International Affairs seemed annoyed with his joyous counterpart.

'The Contract states that whosoevers name is on the parchment that exists must compete, no questions. So you can get that idea out of your head, Potter, there's no way out of this. You are also bound to attend the school you were inducted under, though classes may be skipped for training. Nor receiving outside help, it is entirely reliant on self-study, and I am terribly sorry, Mr Potter, but the age gap is an unfortunate incident, but you will be tested on the same merits, despite being 3 years their junior.'

Harry groaned, but nodded. He was more worried about the others' reactions, the public was always a fickle bunch and seemed to refuse to draw their own conclusions, so he had no doubt if one person, or even the Daily Prophet, said he was a cheat, he'd be utterly screwed. All it really meant was he'd be spending almost every day in the library, with some time off for his friends.

The rest of the evening was boring as the more minor rules were explained, and they were dismissed to sleep. Ravenclaw was eerily silent, as it seemed everybody had fallen asleep. Still wary, he quickly ascended the steps, carefully moved into his dorm, closed the curtains and used his best protection ward just in case.

His sleep was torturous.

Daphne was being run ragged. Ever since Luna's words, she'd been trying to decipher their meaning until she finally disillusioned herself, as her mother had taught, and entered the library. None of the books in the main area were of any age that they'd hold anything interesting, so she'd carefully moved into the Restricted section, careful not to trip the wards that would alert Filch.

It was nearing Dawn and none of them held even a hint of the words she'd sought, and her strength was fading. At least, until she spotted one lying on the floor, as if thrown down in anger or surprise. When she looked at the cover, she couldn't quite make it out, but the age matched what she had suspected they were from. Carefully prying open to the first page, she skimmed, until the second to last page. There, in bold, silver words, lied what she had been looking for. And it frightened her more than she could have possibly imagined.

'The One Born of Darkness Rises, As Their Origin meets Crisis

Their Time to Rule shall come, But First Forces they must Overcome

When One of Three becomes Eternal, The Cursed one shall pass on Mantle

And Like Phoenix they must Rise of Ash, As Shadow Births from Light's Clash.'

It was Prophecy long thought either fulfilled, or irrelevant. Many had sought the meaning, and many had attempted to perceive what it would make the world. Palpatine had been the original suspect, but now… now her mind was drifting to someone else. The Descendant of the most evil wizard and witch to have ever existed.

If Luna was right, this year would be the defining moment, in which path the Prophesied Child would choose for their fate, and she didn't know if it was heading in the right one. Perhaps she could save them, but all she could feel was fear, and pity. There was a war brewing, and she suspected the two old Chess Masters were about to face a Third Element, one who would change the board so drastically it would be unrecognisable.