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

Chapter 34: A Kiss or Two

The First Task was upon them, and Harry was waiting patiently in the Champion's tent. Viktor and Fleur were each in their own corners, as he continued to read his book, The Deceit of War, which he'd retrieved from the library. It had been placed upon a table, and he suspected the librarian had found it, though he was curious as to why she hadn't placed it on a shelf.

It seemed to speak from personal experiences, which intrigued him as the most recent were that of Voldemort and Grindelwald, which suggested that the creator could still be alive. As he continued to turn, he noticed the tent flap open, Dumbledore, Maxime, Karkaroff, Bagman and Crouch entering. Looking up, he walked upon the somewhat unkempt grass with his fellow champions. Bagman was carrying a strange royal purple velvet bag, which made some eerily odd noises.

'Gather 'round, champions, gather 'round! It's time to decide the order of who faces the tasks! To begin with, the rules are simple: You are allowed a wand only, the crowd will be unable to assist you, and we will not step in if you are in danger. Now, reach into the bag, and grab what you grasp first.' Bagman held out the corresponding item, and Fleur shouldered her way in font, shoving her hand in.

Giving out a cry of pain, she pulled it out along with a scaly creature, which he quickly deduced to be a dragon. In her hand lay a Chinese Fireball, red with an almost lion's mane, seemingly trying to burn her hand off. Glaring, she noticed the number 1 around it, scowling even more so. Viktor nodded for Harry to go next, but the Ravenclaw decided he'd rather be last, indicating for his fellow to instead. With a calm face, the Durmstrang alumni reached in and pulled out a Hungarian Horntail with a gold number 2 around its neck, his expression unreadable.

'Good, good! Now, Mr Potter, simply grasp the last left, as you will be going last. It's the perfect order, our Youngest Champion the last to go!' Carefully putting his hand in, he took out a… Romanian Longhorn?

'I thought they were extinct?'

'Except for your own, eh? Well, apparently one was found off the coast of… well, Romania, and we were able to get a hand on it! A little extra drama, eh? Anyways, when you hear the signal, just leave the tent and retrieve your goal, Good luck!' Harry glared, and the man backed off, before the group left. Going to his own corner, the Ravenclaw stared at his model, frustration building. He was faced not only with a dragon, a Class 5 Beast, but one of two left. He could kill it, but for all he knew this would very well render Gracie the last of her kind once more. Could he do it?

Eventually, a cannon-ish sound went off, and Fleur left the other side of the tent. He waited quietly with Viktor, deciding to read his book as his model was shoved in his cloak pocket. Eventually, it went off once more and his fellow left, as he waited for his own doom. He had little doubt his chances of exiting the arena were slim, even Dumbledore or Voldemort would have been seriously challenged by a Dragon, and he was only a 4th year, even if he was ahead in his studies. BUt, he would give it his best shot.

Finally, it was his turn, and as he stepped out, Everything seemed to fall silent, and he could see the crowd booing, calling him out and yelling, but they seemed to be moving in slow motion. He carefully walked out, his new brown wand in hand. Ollivander had assessed it during the weighing of the wands, where he'd been confronted by that awful reporter. Unfortunately, his cursing of her quill and pad had backfired, and he'd faced absolute hatred from everybody, including his own house, rather than the neutrality or passive dislike.

Now, was his time to prove himself. To show that he was worthy of fighting in this tournament, even if he was 3 years younger than his opponents and less skilled. Thankfully, at worst he'd simply use as much power as he could. It would at least daze the Dragon, if not kill it. So, he carefully stepped into the rocky arena, where the green red-horned beast lay, watching him. Breathing, and out, he unleashed his wings, and he noticed at least two black feathers present. Ignoring it, he walked in, and began his fight.


Darkness breeds in the brightest of souls, for they are the most scorned. Everybody wants to be the hero, and those who become so are spurned out of jealousy. It is overpowering, powerful, and feeds off their beliefs. The most pure-hearted will always become the most evil. It is a sickness that permeates all societies, for all are vile. Humans are the most disgusting creatures, for we always desire what we cannot have, each time we meet a goal we must move past it, it has been destroying our planet and will destroy our futures.

Soon, we will face the one of prophecy. The one who will not take what we give them, and will repay our hatred with death. Some call him an Angel, some a Demon, some worship, other scorn, but one thing is true. They will decide the fate of our kind, and I suspect it will not end well. I shall begin my campaign to find them, I already have one suspect, and will teach them what they need to know to make their decision.

Perhaps I am biased, but I do not believe we ought to continue. Our endless cycle of pain and death must end, and I intend to be the one to do so. In training the one destined to accomplish this, in some way I can achieve my goal. Their time is coming, and I will be there to see it.


As if he had the strength of gods, Harry unleashed a powerful reductor curse, but his opponent simply shrugged it off, unleashing a torrent of flames at him. The crowd cheered at this, but he simply shrugged it off, sending curse after curse. He kept trying desperately to knock the dragon out, but nothing seemed to be working.

The Longhorn began growing agitated, clawing desperately at it's chain as Harry continued sending barrages of spells, doing his best to try and overpower it. He reached the apex of his climb, meeting a barrier as he began to dive, aiming for the golden egg he'd noticed when he first entered the arena. In front of him, the jaws of the dragon snapped open, and he aimed his wand, ready to fire, and just as the words reached his tongue…

He saw the professor. Quirrel, watching wide-eyed and he spun, hitting the rock and his wings and skin tore, leaving him a bundled mass in front of stone, which he quickly crawled over to as even more flames reached it, burning it up and slowly beginning to melt. Shutting his eyes, he prepared for death, but just before it began, he had a vision, which frightened him more than he could say.


Voldemort was standing in front of him in a forest, cackling loudly.

'The-Boy-Who-Lived, come to Die.' A flash of green light hit him, and as his life began to slip away, much like in the Chamber of Secrets, he closed them, recalling friends fallen.


Tom was there, being held along with the rest of his friends in the Chamber of Secrets. Voldemort and his followers stood there, he recognized each one of his old allies, as well as an old man with white hair being pushed onto their knees.

'Choose, Harry, you must choose. For you must face the reality of war, I will not fight a coward. Who shall die?'


A dark stone was held between his fingers, as he raised his wand, and struck down wizard after wizard, before hitting a platinum-blonde haired figure in the back, until he realized who it was. There were only two males in the room who shared that trait, and the larger one had just been defeated by Sirius.

'Draco!'


Harry watched, terrified as he and his friends ran away, Snatchers chasing after them. He watched in horror as Trip was hit with a green spell, then Hermione, then Sirius.

'Noooooo-!'


'-Oooooo!' He woke up from his vision, before casting a shield and defending himself from the dragon. A fierceness entered his eyes, and he began walking up toward his opponent. Casting spells, Harry managed to land one in the eye, as the beast growled before receiving a reductor to the mouth. His rampage continued, tearing apart the wings, the underbelly torn open as he refused to relent, continuing his campaign.

Slowly, the dragon began to collapse, injured before finally it;s hide was pierced by a well placed bombarda, which the Ravenclaw maximized on and finished his conquest, finally felling his great foe. His heavy breathing was the only thing that filled the arena, and as he looked around, he noticed that even the crowd had fallen silent, Dumbledore's eyes widened, the only sign of his surprise.

Carefully walking up, he retrieved the golden egg, and pulled one tooth, one claw, and one horn from the corpse of the magnificent beast. A single tear slipped, before he walked out of the rocky area, pocketing the items. Ignoring the stares and calls for him, he slowly looked upon his dragon, who looked at him with a sad expression, or as well as a dragon could manage.

'Father…'

'I am well aware Gracie. I am very sorry, but they left me no choice.

'I know, and I understand. I just hope that you can move past this, for I must leave soon. I am already at the time I am supposed to mate, and I am holding back those urges to assist you. But I am only able to do that for a limited time, by your next year I'll have to leave.'

'Then let us go for another flight, eh?' The dragon smiled, and he jumped up, carefully lying on the cushioning charm he'd placed on her spikes so as to avoid tearing apart his lower half.

As she jumped into the air and flew, Harry relaxed and let the wind whip by him. He closed his eyes, holding tightly to one of the spikes running down her neck as he just let his worries wash away. All of his friends had tried it at one point or another, each had described a sensation of wonder and awe, but all the Ravenclaw experienced was pure and unadulterated joy, relaxations spreading from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

It was during these moments that Harry experienced pure bliss, all the problems of the world leaving him. It felt even better than a broom, such raw and natural flight, even if assisted slightly by magic. Every tugging sensation of doubt, every concern over his future and fear of the past disappeared. These moments felt so perfect he never wanted to leave them, holding closely to one of his oldest friends, just hugging her until his life force left this plane of existence.

But eventually it all had to go away, far too soon for his tastes as Grace finally set down. They were fleeting but they made everything worth it, and as he patted her neck and pointed out a rabbit, he began his long trek to the castle. It was nearing winter, and the trees were well into their brown stage, though the rain allowed the crunch to be softened when he stepped on the rain-soaked leaves.

Hogwarts was a truly grand castle, and as he allowed the majesty to set in, he reflected on his time. His friends had all but abandoned him, Flitwick had refused to train him despite not giving up… his…. True… Apprentice… stat- Wait! Harry smacked himself in the face. Why hadn't he seen it before!? He wasn't paying attention to the rules at all, he'd been drowned in training, but that passage was so obvious! It was why his meetings with Severus had been cut short lately. He's such an idiot!

Running down the many corridors, jumping every other step, passing painting after painting, he sprinted towards Flitwick's office. The stout professor would have had to remain cold no matter what, otherwise he would have risked ostracization, and unless you're Severus, you can't risk that. So be moved quickly, skipping the trick step as he arrived at the door he needed, and knocked quickly. Thankfully, it opened immediately.

'Mr Potter? Come, come in quickly!' Motioning for the boy to enter, where there was steaming tea lying on the half-goblin teachers desk, Harry smirked.

'So, how did you know I would figure it out now?'

'You've always been intelligent, but your social skills tend to leave something to be desired. Take, for example, your romance with Miss Greengrass. Or should I say… lack thereof.' Flitwick poured tea for each, dropping three sugars for Harry, and one for himself.

'I suppose that is a fair point, I am sorry for not recognizing it sooner.'

'Yes, well, that's not your fault. I suppose those dastardly Dursleys would need to pay that penance. Oh, the things Severus has said about them in our own little chats. Anyways, have you already discovered the loophole?' The professor smiled, and Harry responded with a smirk.

'If you train me as your True Apprentice rather than as a professor of Hogwarts, the Tournament committee can't complain.'

'Yes, though I don't know how much more I can teach you. Your skill in taking down the dragon was incredible, I noticed your use of the Aggressive form, and the power rolling off you was incredible. I've no doubt you could go toe-to-toe with Bellatrix Lestrange, and the only students here that rival your power are the Champions and the best of the best of the seventh years.' Harry thanked him, taking a sip of his tea before opening with another query.

'If that is the case, wouldn't I be the youngest to receive a Mastery as your True Apprentice?'

'Why yes, you would! In fact, here it is! I had this made by the time of your second spell creation in September. I think you have long since earned it.' In his hands were two framed papers, and Harry took them reverently, evidence of his newfound skill and power. After his 'Magical Growth' his skill with a wand had increased dramatically, as evidence by the number of times his Professor hit the floor compared to him.

The first was obvious, a certificate of his mastery in Dueling and Charms. The second though… His eyes widened.

'Professor!?'

'Your mother left it in my care, should she have passed and you lived.'

In his hands lied the certificate of his mothers mastery, inscribed by his mother with Flitwick's signature. Her handwriting was eerily similar to his own, and he ran his hand over her signature delicately, as if it would shatter should he apply seven the tiniest bit of force to it. There was a distinct femininity to it, much more graceful rather than brutish like his fathers, but an odd perfection, as his own resembled an eerie combination, the grace of his mothers and the clearness of his fathers.

Even with that little bit, he learned quite a lot about his mother. Her dedication as someone who lacked his unique strength, the speed and skill with her soft yet strong handwriting, the confidence with having written it up herself… He held it to his chest, clutching the small lifeline to his mother. Tears running down his eyes, he thanked his professor profusely before leaving.

He had been gifted a photo album by Hagrid at the end of his second year, getting some assistance from his friends and others who knew his parents for pictures, but it simply did not compare to this. Raw evidence, something created by his mother, that really proved she existed. Memories, pictures… they were all empty, superficial. But proof they had worked hard and made an impact was worth more than all the gold in his vaults.

It was this that changed his perspective. That allowed him to see his betrothal, and even light a spark of hope in his chest. Perhaps it wasn't doomed, maybe he had a chance. So he decided to change his future, not to give up, and giving one last glance to his Mothers Mastery of Charms document, he ran to Ravenclaw tower, shoving them into his trunk, and then pulled out the Marauder's Map. There, in one of the dungeon rooms.

Quickly repeating his journey from earlier only backwards, he slid down the bannisters, jumped over railings to get down the next flight, and sprinting down the steps into his goal, he reached Dungeon 08, where his betrothed was working. Opening the door, he closed it behind him before taking one look at Daphne… and all his confidence was sapped.

She was absolutely mind-numbingly beautiful, her blond hair like wheat in a field, her fair skin like shining porcelain, her eyes beautiful swirling oceans filled with warmth and kindness, so unlike her parents, but there was still cold to them, that suggested if you dared to cross her or anyone else she cared about, it would come back with a vengeance. A single eyebrow raised up in a form of question.

'Look, Daphne, I...I'm sorry. I am just really, really sorry. I have been so preoccupied with my loss of choice, I did not even think of how it would affect you. I mean, you are in the exact same position I am, but if anything, even worse. You could have gotten any boy you wanted, and were saddled with me. I would just… now that your parents are not in the way, I would like to give this a chance.' Harry poured his heart out, trying desperately to make her understand.

"Harry, what you did really hurt me. I understand my parents can be frightening, but you didn't even try and explain to them our positions, I get it, this sucks, but we both have to be willing to put in an effort if we want this to work. Love takes time and effort, but I'm willing to put that in if you are.'

'I-I am. We just have to try, and maybe it will succeed, right?' Harry sent her a heart-melting smirk, and her cold facade dropped as she smiled at him, glad to have a chance to attempt a proper relationship. Walking over, Daphne hugged him tightly, Harry responding likewise.

'S-so, I hear there is a Yule B-Ball soon. W-would y-you like to b-be my d-d-date?'

'Where's all that confidence you have when dueling, Lord Potter?' Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

'W-well, It isn't exactly the same as asking a girl for a date, is it? Much higher chance of getting cursed in the latter.'

'I would never curse you, Lord Potter. I can't see many happy marriages stemming from the two participants hurting each other, can you?'

'I suppose not, though that does make me feel better. Maybe I read a few too many romance novels, and they are getting in my head.' Daphne grinned.

'You, Harry Potter, read Romance Novels? Oh, the gossip will be incredible. And I suppose that I could be your date for the evening of the Yule Ball, but I expect that Astoria will be able to find one with Draconus?' Harry stood there, stunned.

'Astoria likes Draco?'

'Apparently. She's been gushing about his eyes and his looks and his personality for ages. Ever since he decided to hang out with the Saviour of the Wizarding World and help him understand that which he saved better, she hasn't let up, unless she's talking about you and I. Speaking of which, if I have to hear about how cute our babies will be again, I will cut her tongue out.' Harry blushed deeply.

'Well, why don't we avoid talking about hurting our little sisters, and instead focus on us, now that we are actually, officially dating despite the betrothal, and try to lay some ground rules so no one gets hurt?'

'Yes, that is probably a good thing. My rules for dating are simple, Neither of us are allowed to leave an argument until it is settled, both of us need to put in the effort, and there will be no purposeful attempt to hurt the other, mentally or physically. All of those lead to unpleasant marriages, and as much as I hate my parents, they have a really happy marriage despite being betrothed and utter sadists.' Harry smirked cheekily.

'Really? Well then, how about one more?'

'Hmm?' Daphne glanced up at him, and noticed this was a very, very different Harry Potter than the one she and her friends were used to. This one had the natural determination and confidence he seemed to hold almost permanently that were so attractive, but there was a softness and vulnerability she had never seen before.

'Kisses before we leave the others' presence.' He leaned in, breathing deeply, looking at her with his emerald green eyes that seemed to draw her closer and read her every emotion. He himself was entranced by her swimming irises, circling about her ever-smaller pupil as he leaned in, closing the gap between them as he began to get ever nearer, into her space. Her hands reached around his neck, as his found their way on her hips, his cologne filling her nose as Daphne's perfume filled Harry's.

The distance was ever so small, and her lips so invitingly delicious, her cute button nose distracting him for a second as she stared at him, faint blonde flecks of a future beard on his chin, strong jaw, aristocratic cheekbones, messy hair and glasses engraved with runes. She always wondered why he wore them, if he was supposed to be a master Occlumens, but in that single moment she thanked every God she knew that he did, for they enhanced his eyes so perfectly, allowing the vivid green to stare even deeper into her tidal blue, and as they neared, she puckered her lips, closing her eyes as she waited for his move, and-

'So long, Milady Greengrass.' He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, leaving her utterly stunned and holding a hand up to her face, carefully pushing her away before running off, laughing. As she stumbled, an absolute tidal-wave of emotions came crashing over, confusion and anger, sadness and joy, annoyance and bliss, but it all sank into one.

Frustration.

'Potter! You come back here, now!'


'Potter. I am coming. You don't see me, but I am here. Watching over you. One day, you will see me, and then, Voldemort's day of reckoning will come. I have spent far too long trapped here, unable to escape. But I will make it. I will see you. The younger should not have to pay for the olders mistakes. I will see your happiness, I will ensure you make it. The time has come. The time is here. I will escape. I will do it. I will ensure you see the future I could not. We are nearly there. Voldemort will pay. I will find a way. I will find some way. You will make it. You will succeed. Your darkness makes you strong. Your balance will be found. Some will call you evil, but that will not be true. You shall hold all our fates in the balance. You will succeed. The darkness must be equal to the light, there must be balance or there will always be evil. Dark does not mean evil. Dark does not mean evil. Dark does not mean evil. Dark does not mean evil. Dark does not mean evil. Dominus Aeturnum. Dominus Aeturnum. Dominus Aeturnum will rise, and the world will know no more. AHAHAHAHAHAHA!'


We've had Angsty Harry around for a while(For good reason), It's time for a bit of a tonal shift.