Chapter 1
Harry closed his eyes as he slumped in his seat on the Hogwarts Express. He was suffering from a headache and was so very tired; he had not been able to sleep well since that fateful night containing a horde of dementors and a werewolf attack. Ron and Hermione seemed to be fine, they carried on a conversation that Harry was not following before shifting into a mild argument, just like usual.
The rest of the trip passed in a haze, Harry remained vaguely aware that the train was in motion, and his friends continued shifting between talking and silence. They must have thought that he was asleep, as they made no attempt to engage him in conversation. He did not reopen his eyes until the train's brakes engaged, at which point he tiredly gathered his luggage and exited the train.
Farewells were exchanged along with promises to stay in touch as they parted ways. Vernon said something presumably insulting as Harry climbed into the car and resigned himself to another summer spent with the Dursleys. The drive to Privet Drive stretched on, Vernon reiterating the Dursley house rules for the thousandth time, all the while Harry simply nodded and made sounds of agreement, only half-listening. As soon as they arrived, Vernon hauled Harry's luggage into the cupboard and locked it up, while Harry proceeded up to his room and laid down, praying for sleep.
Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by trees and darkness. He stumbled about, tripping over roots and rocks before catching sight of a faint glow in the distance. There appeared to be a shape within the light, indistinct though it was, and Harry headed towards it. As he drew nearer, he could see that it was humanoid.
"Hello?"
The figure appeared to move in response but did not make a sound; seeing this, Harry attempted to reach out to the figure but before his hand could make contact, he awoke. A shaft of moonlight shone through Harry's window, illuminating his cramped room. It looked to be very early morning, given how low in the sky the moon was. Clearly his afternoon nap had gone a little long. The morning passed slowly; Harry remained in his bed as the sunlight began to grace the roofs of the neighborhood.
Eventually he could hear the Dursleys begin to stir and waited until Vernon's heavy footsteps passed by his door and down the stairs to get ready to head downstairs himself. Breakfast was, as he remembered, an unpleasant affair, Harry cooked their food while they conversed or sent verbal jabs and nasty looks his way. Shortly after, he proceeded into the garden; weeding was one of his primary tasks, and it would be easier to just get it over with before Petunia felt the need to scream at him about it.
The rest of the morning was spent caring for Petunia's precious plants, and by the time he was finished, his clothes were covered with grass stains and soaked with sweat. His headache, which had faded when he slept returned, just as bad as the day prior. Harry finished a few more odd chores that afternoon before showering off and returning to his room, skipping dinner outright. After a few hours spent tossing and turning he succumbed to sleep, once more finding himself dreaming.
Dementors. The creatures that had haunted him for the greater part of the previous year now plagued his dream. Harry immediately went for his wand, but it was absent from his pocket. They swarmed over him, circling him for what felt like hours, drowning him in coldness and despair. He awoke gasping for air, and when he regained his senses, he bundled his blanket around himself as tightly as he could, still feeling that horrible chill.
After several days of vicious headaches, Harry became worried that it was something serious, and took his concerns to the Dursleys. They begrudgingly took him to see a doctor who, though finding nothing apparently wrong, prescribed a pain medication. It worked to ease his pain for a time, but he would still wake up every morning with a fresh headache.
Days passed into weeks; Harry's waking hours tormented by pounding headaches, his sleep filled with nightmares. Almost all his dreams featured dementors, though sometimes there were other horrors that he did not recognize. The only respite he found was in the figure cloaked in light; it only appeared occasionally, but its light seemed to keep the dementors at bay, a small mercy, but one that Harry was thankful for.
The Dursleys remained as belligerent as ever, and Harry did his best to simply keep his head down and stay off their radar it was not hard to do; he was too tired to rise to their insults, even ones about his parents which should have made him furious simply passed him by. His birthday came and went, the cakes sent from his friends and godfather helped raise his spirits and the potential of leaving the Dursleys to see the Quidditch World Cup was a bright spot on the horizon.
A short time later, much to his relief, the Weasleys came for him, whisking him away from the Dursleys for another year. His time with them was such a change from the rest of his summer; though he still had trouble sleeping, he had more to look forward to, and his headaches seemed to lessen. The World Cup was incredible, seeing top tier quidditch players up close was like a dream come true and when he returned to the tent, he felt contentment like he hadn't felt since winning the house cup the previous year.
He fell asleep easily that night.
This time there were no dementors, only the forest and the mysterious figure. This time was different however, where before he could only make out that it was humanoid, this time it had greater detail. He could see that it was in the shape of a woman with long hair, though he could not make out any colors, as she simply shone a bright white. He then noticed thin black lines that looked like veins branching out from her feet and up her legs, the tendrils stopping just above her knees.
The figure moved suddenly, reaching out an arm towards him. Harry, after a moment of hesitation, reached out as well, meeting her hand; there was a bright flash of light, and Harry awoke. He wandered out of the tent, the weather was wonderful, not too cold or warm, and a slight breeze that carried the sounds of revelers in the distance.
He had wandered for some time, and found himself near the massive Irish victory party, when the air was suddenly split by the sound of a nearby explosion, followed by screams. The campground around him was bathed in light as several tents were now in flames. There was panic among the partiers, and Harry was immediately caught up in a stampede of fleeing people.
The next few moments were a blur of noise and confusion; Harry saw a group of people in black cloaks and silver masks casting spells and setting things on fire while a handful of witches and wizards including Mr. Weasley and Amos Diggory attempted to break through the panicked crowd and reach the attackers. Out of nowhere a blasting charm impacted a tent next to Harry, pitching him to the ground.
When he stood, a plume of smoke washed over him, temporarily blinding him and inhibiting his breathing. He stumbled out of the smoke coughing and trying to clear his vision. His eyes were still blurry but when he looked up, he could see a figure cloaked in black.
"You!" The man slurred drunkenly, raising his wand.
Harry lurched to the side as a bright red spell shot towards him, pulling his own wand from his pocket, unsure of what to do. Despite his rather intense three years at Hogwarts, he did not really know how to duel a wizard. He cast a handful of the jinxes he knew, but the man, despite his apparent inebriation, seemed to have retained some dueling ability, as he was able to deflect or dodge them all while returning spells of his own.
Though he managed to avoid the incoming spells, Harry knew that he was outmatched and that it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. Suddenly, time seemed to slow down as a spell that he knew he couldn't dodge approached his midsection. He felt a strange emptiness and watched as his arm seemed to move on its own. The tip of his wand intercepted the incoming spell, causing it to vanish with a slight burst of light.
Then, his body went on the offensive, speaking words that he did not recognize and performing wand motions with more dexterity than Harry himself could manage, resulting in a hail of spells that swiftly overwhelmed his opponent, sending the man hurtling into a tent, unconscious. Everything immediately became very hazy before he blacked out.
For the first time in many weeks Harry slept dreamlessly and awoke back in the Burrow. He felt, for once, very rested though his head still ached slightly. Harry exited the room and descended the stairs into the kitchen, surprising Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who appeared to be in conversation at the dinner table.
"So glad to see you up, Harry" Mr. Weasley started "We were terribly worried when we found that you weren't in the tent. What gave you the idea to go wandering about?"
"The weather was good, and I felt restless," Harry shrugged, "What happened there anyway? It was all so confusing at the time."
"Seems like some blood supremacists did a little too much drinking and got out of hand. However, there is something I hope that you would be able to shed some light on; all of the supremacists managed to apparate away except for one that we found knocked out not too far from you, did you have anything to do with that?"
"Yeah, someone attacked me and I fought back but then I…don't really know what happened." Harry said, "I don't think that I could've beaten a full-fledged wizard."
This was true; Harry had no idea what occurred, he was definitely losing the duel and though the memory of what happened was still fresh in his mind, he could not believe that it was real.
"Regardless, I'm glad they didn't all manage to get away unscathed," Mr. Weasley said, some anger entering his voice, "especially after the way they tormented those poor muggles."
Their conversation ended as Mrs. Weasley could no longer hold back and began fussing over him, practically forcing him to sit down with a massive plate of food. Shortly after, the rest of the Weasley clan showed up, along with Hermione and the atmosphere turned jovial.
The next few days were pleasant, even though his headaches and dreams returned in full force. Harry spent much of his time trying to figure out what happened at the World Cup, but eventually settled on it being his imagination, perhaps a hallucination caused by smoke inhalation or his sleep deprived state. He soon found himself back in Hogwarts, sitting in the Great Hall and thinking almost entirely of his bed.
"Please welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Ra!" Dumbledore boomed from his podium as the doors opened.
A moment passed, then another; before a tall olive-skinned man with short brown hair clad in orange and white robes strode in, staff in hand. He made his way up to the staff table and, with a short wave, sat down.
"And it is my unfortunate duty to announce that there will be no Quidditch cup held this year." Dumbledore said, causing outrage across the hall, "As Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament!"
Immediately, the hall quieted for a moment before a very mixed reaction happened; about half the students, those that knew what the tournament was, began to cheer, while the other half remained confused but swiftly got caught up in the excitement.
"The representatives from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute will be arriving in October, and I must remind you that it is crucial that you be on your best behavior," Dumbledore continued, growing serious, "The Triwizard Tournament has traditionally been one of the greatest examples of international wizard cooperation."
Dumbledore then went on to explain the concept of the tournament to the hall and laid out some rules, including the age limit, which inspired anger from many around him. Harry was content though, this year promised to be exciting but the stress would not lay on his shoulders.