Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter
Septima Vector was a beautiful woman. She knew this. But as she surveyed her naked form reflected back at her within her brightly lit chamber, all she could see were the scars. Of course, none of them were as galling or disgusting as Harry's, that beautiful boy, but they were ugly to her eyes.
There were four in total, and each one a regret that she would carry with her until the end of days. The first, and most noticeable, was the straight line that began on the inside of her left knee that travelled into her inner thigh. A lightly coloured raised mountain of scar tissue that was the folly of youth: a first and only foray into the Forbidden Forest on a dare from that berk Sirius Black. Of course, he had been beside her, both brand new first years trembling deep within the blackness of the trees, running from the spindled legs and clacking jaws and dripping venom. The boy had been weeping when he dragged her into the hospital wing, and he became more bruised by the wayward fists of Lily Evans than the predatory beasts. She was not victimless on this account either – Lily had been enraged.
Septima chuckled dryly. "I was young and stupid, Lily. Even you could have seen that. There I was, a shy, friendless girl who wanted to prove herself brave and worthy to be in that House. I wonder… what did you really think of me?"
A jagged, black, line curved over her right breast, beginning in her armpit, and ending where her heart was placed. A glancing blow from the Battle of Bookshelves. The war had been in its initial stages then. Hidden in the shadows at first but becoming a global phenomenon by the end of it. Foreign mercenaries had entered the school at the payment and orders of some Death Eater to search for something. What exactly it was she did not know, but she was sat in the library, minding her own business (staring at Lily) when fire consumed wood and paper. She was on her feet in a flash, Lily not far behind, and she saw that day why Madam Pince was so feared as she stood rooted to the floor, a visage of an angry demoness turning her enemies to molten flesh and seared bone. Septima got a few good hits in the only battle of the war to take place at Hogwarts, however a stray curse clipped her good and she fell into the arms of her best friend as she screamed in pain.
"You cared for me then. I remember it so clearly it could be happening before me. You would force me to remain in bed, bringing me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My homework and class notes. When the pain would be never-ending and I stubbornly refused to go to Mungo's, you crept into my bed and held me, whispering such sweet words in my ear just to soothe me."
She knew the crescent shaped scar was hidden in her hair, but that one would only cause anguish. Desperate memories clung to the cornerstones of her mind, dragging the misery and desire to the forefront of her essence. It was her failed attempt. When everything had seemed so empty, and she felt so full of hate. She owed James Potter everything for only coming away with that single reminder of her folly.
"Will you...?"
"I am so, so, sorry. For everything. For how this has become what it has."
"Promise me, James, and then I can smile without tears."
"Septima…"
"Promise me!"
"I thought you would hate what has become of this."
"Maybe I should have. It would have been so easy, to leave the sorrow behind and take up my anger. But for what purpose? To dwell on that to create such pain goes against everything we were. Hate would have been too hard to bear. The pain I feel is all within my heart…
"James, thank you. For everything."
One of the last battles of the war took place in Godric's Hollow. She had stood there with 12 other Witches and Wizards. By the end of the fight, 3 Death Eaters lay dead in the street, along with 3 other Dark Magicals. They stood 4 tall, but bleeding and exhausted. She had held Harry for the first time that evening, cut and bruised.
His eyes had locked to her own, bright, and green – her eyes – and she had wept with a joy she did not know she could feel again. She swore to herself that day that she would protect this little thing. He had rested his head upon her chest, a small arm patting her neck where a grim looking gash was made by some dark curse that refused to seal shut. James plied her with potions to help, and the pouring of crimson had slowed.
"You were caring and loving even then Harry. And I made an oath that I shall keep to my final breath. Even if you were to never know me, I would protect you."
She began slipping her clothes on. Enough cleavage to not make it too indecent, a skirt not too short but enough to reveal her long legs. Her robes, thin and stylish, over the top of her clothing but still showing her fashionable boots and long, wavy, auburn hair to its fullest extent. She put on her smile, one that became more real with each day now, and winked at herself in shining glass.
"Well, Setty, time to embrace the day."
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"Fay, I do appreciate what you're trying to do, but please, can you stop?"
"Harry," she hissed, holding on to his arm tightly. "I'm just making sure you'll be okay. Three times since this morning someone has tried to hex you. Tell me you didn't hear their mocks?"
"No, I definitely did, but after my name was spoken, I expected something like this to happen. Just maybe not from the Hufflepuffs."
"That was a poor attempt at a joke."
He let out quiet laughter that caused her to flinch slightly if the tug on his arm was anything to go by. She was not quite wrong though. He had heard the whispers and japes as he traversed through the halls, and if not for the interruptions of Cedric, Flitwick, and the Weasley Twins, then he would have most likely been spending some time in his (reserved) hospital bed. He had seen Fay and Katie conspiring something that morning but shrugged his weary shoulders and yawned it away. Katie had been like glue, sticking to him until she went to lessons. Even then Harry could see that she looked to be seconds away from skipping it and not extricating herself from his presence. She had given a look to his now permanent shadow and his best friend had not left his side since.
There was enough time at the present for them to enjoy the fading sunshine as Autumn crept up on them. Plenty of time until the evening meal was to be served, and so Harry dragged Fay along with him to seat themselves within the Fountain Courtyard.
She had pleaded with him to reconsider – "Why don't we go to the Library? Pince loves having you around. 'Most respectful student she's seen in years', remember? Or Hagrid's, I could go for a famous Hagrid tea." – but he had refused. Any other time, she would be bragging about how independent he was becoming, almost like a big sister showing off a little brother she had just helped take first steps, but with how erratic the student populace was being, she did not wish to take any chances.
"Fay, you don't have to come with me," he said with a serene look on his face. "I've made my peace with this. Anything could happen to me in November, and I refuse to bow down to fear of what could happen."
She had acquiesced to his wants, but Harry could see her eyes flicking from corner to corner, eyeing up students from all three schools as they walked beyond them to the gently breeze and floating leaves.
"We're outside now, happy?" she grumbled.
He laughed at her fallen mood, lightly, as he knew she was just looking out for him. "I just want to sit outside for a bit and enjoy the fresh air. And Fay," she locked eyes with him, an eyebrow raised quizzically, "thank you." At her still puzzled look, he continued. "For being my friend." His head ducked in embarrassment. 'Trust'. "For looking out for me."
"Don't be silly, Harry," she said softly. "You would do it for me, and all the rest of us, too. You're my friend. My best friend. I care for you and I just want to make sure you're safe."
Boisterous and obnoxious laughter floated over to their seats. Harry's head turned instinctively in the direction is came from and sighed at the sight.
Draco Malfoy was stood there, posture straight and chest puffed out. His gaze would flit between what was in front of him then to Harry's direction periodically. A box was held in the arms of his crony, Goyle, while a bag was in the hand of Crabbe. He could see Pansy Parkinson emit high pitched, fake, giggles at whatever Draco was saying.
"…even if you are a mudblood, I appreciate your custom."
"Oh boy." Harry nodded in agreement to Fay's words. "This isn't going to end well. Maybe we should really go."
Harry simply remained silent but agreed with Fay. "Maybe we can find a balcony somewhere? Might even be better as we could have a nice view too. Or even atop the Astronomy Tower if with ask Professor Sinistra?"
"Well, she does like you, and I think she likes me too, so I don't see why not. If it were Nev, then maybe not. You remember what she was like when he broke that globe."
Daphne Greengrass could have been the most beautiful girl in Slytherin, but her vicious grin, hard eyes, and face full of unnecessary make-up brought that image down low. "Going somewhere, Potter?" she shouted over the din of students, who quietened down when an anticipation began to bubble around them. "Draco, why don't you show him and the blood traitor what we made." There was an inflection on the 'we' that left no doubt in Harry's mind that whatever he was to be shown may have been Draco's idea, but all Daphne's handiwork.
Harry did not recognise anyone in the forming crowd that would come to his aid. He felt that conflict would arise from this, but neither he nor Fay were fighters. Sure, he knew the spells, but he did not have the combatant's instinct. And then there was the wand timing… There! A pointed look at the blonde girl received a knowing stare followed by a shining blur and her disappearance. 'Please be quick,' he prayed as his arm unconsciously moved its way in front of Fay in a protective stance.
"Ah, zo, Draco, zen 'Arry Potter waz 'oo you were talking about?"
Fleur Delacour was here too, perfect eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she sashayed alongside the Slytherin. The air became thick with something that Harry had noticed appeared around them when Veela were about, and he saw the boys in the courtyard become glassy eyed and strike confident poses. He was surprised to see that Draco appeared unaffected.
"Of course, my dear." A sharklike grin grew on the Malfoy heir's face. "And you know what stories there are about him. Makes you wonder really if even what happened with the Dark Lord's demise is even remotely true."
The girl snorted derisively. "Of course. I bid you adieu, mon cheri." She placed a kiss upon Draco's cheek and walked into the castle, nose stuck up as she blatantly ignored Harry when she walked past him.
"Jealous, Potter?"
Harry's head pulled back in surprise. "No. Why would I be?"
"Because of the beautiful woman who is enamoured with me so clearly. My mother has taught me so much over the summer months. How to court and charm. It comes so natural to me now. And that one, well, she deserves all the best attention. Even the Dark Lord was said to have a soft spot for Veela. Many served in his army, did you know? So many Witches and Wizards deny Veela a chance in society, and, well, don't you think they're so like fiery Angels? What do you think, Potter? Mine and Pansy's father have had us betrothed for years, so it isn't as if I would do anything. But it does feel nice to be desired by such a lovely creature. What do you think, Potter?"
"Draco." The yard was silent, waiting with bated breath. "I don't care."
The boy grit his teeth audibly, but decided to change his tack. Harry looked around, hoping his messenger had found whoever she was looking for. His head turned in all directions, looking for an exit, but the students had formed too tight a ring around them. There was no way he could get out without risking either an ambush or being cursed in the back.
"Have you noticed these, Potter? Greengrass and I designed them." He pulled a small metal object from the box his lacky was carrying. Harry's sight was almost blurry – his potion regime that he had been placed on to help fix his eyesight was not completely effective as of yet. He still required his glasses to see, but with some assistance from Hermione, he had managed to charm the lenses to be less strong as needed.
Draco huffed impatiently, striding towards Harry like a strutting peacock. He felt Fay grab his hand shakily and he knew that she had drawn her wand with her other, hiding it behind his back ready to pounce like the Lion she was.
"Here, Potter, what do you think?"
He was close enough now to see it was a badge. The words Support Cedric Diggory, The Real Hogwarts Champion were engraved upon it.
"Um, congratulations on the handwriting?" Harry said dumbly.
"They get better." Draco pressed a finger onto the badge, and the words changed to Potter Stinks. "Well?"
Harry's sight drifted from words to person several times before stopping on the Slytherin. "Is that it?"
Silence followed.
"Wh-what do you mean, is that it?" Draco responded.
Harry could not help himself, the words just spilled out. Four years of bullying, vile words, taunts, attacks… not just against him but his friends, and the students as a whole. The words simply came into being without restraint.
"You say words like mudblood and blood traitor without hesitation, but the worst word you could put on there was Stinks? I am actually shocked. I would have thought that there would be some hideous, heinous, slur or accusation placed onto it. But only Potter Stinks? I… actually feel bad for you. Are you jealous, Draco? I did not want to be in this Tournament, and if you want to take my place, I will be the first one to let you go for it. But I can't. I don't know why you hate me so much, Draco, that you have to constantly do things like this to me. I have no idea what I have done to make you despise me so much, but if it's something painful that I had no idea about, then I'm sorry. I really don't think you are a bad person deep inside, so, on the other side of it all, I forgive you even if you don't want to be forgiven. I don't blame you for how you are. I can only assume it is how you were raised. Sirius told me how your mum was when she was younger, and said some horrible things about your dad, so I can only apologise for that as well. Just because the ones who raised you were one thing, doesn't mean that you have to act the same."
Shock. If anyone did not know Harry by then, they would have believed the words to be a personal attack. But they knew him. They knew his personality by now. Though shocked by the brazenness of the out of character words, Harry genuinely thought the words he said was the complete truth, and they were, for all knew it, but Harry being who he was, did not realise that some words were best left unspoken. He had simply had enough of the pettiness, and with the First Task looming before him, his mind wandered, and his thoughts betrayed him.
Thunk.
It happened quickly. The crowd had parted, with many jumping away when they saw that wands had been drawn. Draco Malfoy had been the slowest of the enemies. His wand had become caught on the inside of his robe, and Harry felt a quick flash of bemusement at the comedic sight of his petulant approach of screaming obscenities at his own stupidity. Crabbe and Goyle had not even deigned to draw them; their first instincts had been to follow the shouted command of their leader and rampage forwards like angry bulls. Pansy Parkinson had screeched as if she were a banshee as she stepped forward, wand deftly swiped out of the inside of her sleeve though held the wrong way with the tip of the item directed into her body. Greengrass, followed by her little sister, Astoria, had not said a word, and were the quickest Snakes to action. They had leaped forward into duelling stances, spells upon both of their lips as they aimed at Harry. Nott, Zabini, and several other Slytherins Harry did not know had jumped to their 'master's' defence. Harry, however, was not going to be taking this lightly.
He had barely dodged to the side, strangely enough mentally thanking Dudley for all the evading training he had put him through over the years. His natural reflexes, and an internalised yell from an imaginary Dora had him pull his own wand out of his robes and direct it at his attackers.
Harry had rolled to the ground and was in the process of standing back up in a natural flow; his right knee was still upon the hard ground with his eyes directed forwards at the many threats that were coming his way. Spell-light was thickening the air when a stone slab erupted from the ground in front of him. Idly, his head turned, and standing in a row, wands out and nervous eyes glistening, stood Tracey, Katie, and Cedric. All three had simultaneously summoned a defence for him, though he saw the scared look on Tracey's face be for more than just his safety: she had broken a cardinal rule for Slytherins.
"It's part of tradition. Us against the school. If we do not stand a unified front against the rest of the students, then we will show even more weakness."
"I don't get it though, Tracey. Every House has rivalries, even within their own. I get what you are saying about dealing with everything 'In House', but this is one of the reasons why people don't get on with Slytherins. You just, well, don't even try."
"Harry… I'm not sure what you mean."
"You say that everyone else is against you. But why? People do not know you. You're my friend, Tracey, and most people accept that now. If you can do it, then why can't any other Slytherin. Why do you think that people always say that 'Snakes are evil'? Most of your House, when they leave, become politicians and whatnot, and do nothing to remove the perception of this. Sirius has told me about what most of the parents have done, and still continue to do. I have met Lucius Malfoy, and I know the type of person he is. I'm sorry, Tracey, but it's not a slander or empty words when it's the truth that shines out."
He nodded at his friend subtly, and he could see the tear trails as they left marks on her lightly made-up face before she turned and ran away before anyone else could see what she had done.
Thunk
An echoing sound strummed his magic. His eye twitched as a feeling of being both uncomfortable and safe cocooned him. He could almost see the auras of magic on his attackers. While he knew that Draco had powerful magic, he was surprised to see the easy flow that he was producing as stones began to rattle and small cracks began to appear on the stone slabs beneath his feet.
"I am back, Harry Potter, and I brought some help for you."
Thunk
It was as though a tiger had been unleashed.
"I've got you, Harry." Slender arms hooked under his arms to pull him up. A soft pressure hit his back as he took to his feet, and when he turned around, a smiling Septima Vector stood before him. A strange warmth filled his body that confused him, though was shut down quickly, even if a phantom feeling of what he now recognised had been pressed against his body. "I was in the middle of a riveting conversation when Miss Lovegood ran up to us all dishevelled looking." Harry was positive that this was probably the neatest that Luna would ever look but did not hold that against her. She was a unique soul who lived as she chose, and Harry would never judge someone poorly for something as simple as how they looked or dressed. "She was slightly frantic. Explaining how 'some bad people' were trying to hurt Harry Potter."
Harry looked at the scene. Alastor Moody was never someone who people truly took seriously. They had always assumed that he was crazy and paranoid. His prowess drilled into him simply through years and years of practice and experience. Most of the younger generation simply heard his name and thought, 'nut-case', decided to just not take him seriously.
"Run along, Potter," the man growled. "I'll sort these fools out."
The air had stilled as a weight had descended upon them all. Katie had come to his side, and a shaking Fay babbled next to him, apologising profusely at her inability to act.
"It's okay, Fay," he tried to smile reassuringly.
"But I just stood there and didn-"
"And so did everyone else. It's okay to be afraid. But I trust you. I know that if I needed you, you would be one of the first to jump in."
Katie, who had hooked her arm with his own, holding it close to her body with her hand clamped down upon Harry's, glanced sideways at them both. Harry knew what she was thinking. Something had happened this year that had made Harry more sure of himself. More confident. There was no way that he would have even entertained saying that to Fay before. He saw her smile at him, which was duplicated by his Arithmancy Professor.
"Alastor will deal out any punishment to the kids out there, don't you worry. But for now, as he said, I think it's time to run along. Unless, of course, you wish for a spot of tea? I'm sure I can wrangle either Filius of Minerva, or maybe even Hagrid if you wanted?"
Harry nodded. The high was coming down, and he just wanted to relax. That had been his goal all along, and he grabbed Fay's hand to pull her along with him as they followed a bubbly and chattering woman to her quarters. It was not until later that night that he realised something.
There were two traces of magic that had blasted through the courtyard when they first arrived. Moody's had remained, powerful and discomforting, but the other… it had felt safe, and warm, and protective. It had dissipated the moment Vector had touched him. It had been angry, but not once had he felt threatened by it.
It felt so familiar, and he could not place his finger upon why.
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Neville cringed beside Harry when the potion blew up in their faces. The odourless smoke wafted about them lazily as the full force of the liquid splashed upon Lavender and Parvati, turning their skin a fluorescent green, their hair an electric blue, and their eyes a deep purple colour. The Slytherin's laughter bounced off the dungeon walls amidst the screeches of the two affected by their actions.
"Potter! Longbottom! Why is it that I am not surprised by your tomfoolery? Longbottom, I am not surprised by your standards of idiocy. How could I not be after so long of putting up with your complete and utter incompetence in my classroom." The darkly grinning Potions Master rounded his ire upon Harry after making Neville shake and stutter with fright and misery. "And you, Potter… You believe this to be a 'joke'? Exactly the same as your father. An inept fool who deemed his overinflated head to be only marginally larger than his overly large ego. I can see exactly in front of me that your similarities extend to more than just looks. Detention. For the both of you. And 30 Points each to be removed."
Harry's head bowed, covering his face from view. Snape was just as vile and vicious as ever, and now even more so after his name becoming removed from the Goblet, and even worse than that after the incident in the courtyard. He knew that he had done things perfect; as perfect as possible for his potion to be after some remedial tutoring by Dora here and there over the summer. It had started to develop a milky shine in the otherwise clear mixture, connoting that a success was inevitable. Neville had almost wept with joy when he and Harry had almost perfected it, and then, Malfoy and company became involved. More than a single ingredient – of which none had any right to enter the potion lest an accident happen – came flying over to their side, where one unfortunately had luck (poor) to land directly in the middle of the cauldron. The event that occurred straight afterwards was the result of this. Of course, Seamus had landed himself in detention alongside them when he stuck up for the two, but Snape would have none of it.
"Do not excuse their stupidity for the actions of another. I saw no such incident, and do not believe that for a single second that a student of Slytherin would debase themselves so."
The classroom door opened as Harry was withdrawing himself further and further into his shell. A small boy, Creevey, from his House opened it and came into the scene that had unfurled.
"What is it boy?" Snape whisper-growled.
"Err," Colin stuttered out, "I've been told to come and get Harry, um, Harry Potter. I-I-I've been told to get him for the Ceremony." The blank and furious looks he received did not spur him on.
"Out with it boy! If you think Potter can leave his foolishness for some… some… dunderheaded party, you may think again!"
"No! I mean, no, sir. It's Professor Dumbledore! He needs Harry to come for some Wand Ceremony thing. All Champions have to attend. Tournament stuff."
"Potter." Harry looked him dead in the eyes at the monotone voice, though his eyes belied the absolute fury within them. "Get out of my classroom."
Harry said not a word as he packed his things and near ran outside.
He was out of breath by the time he made it to the disused classroom where the meeting was to be held. Upon entering, his hands upon his hips as he gulped for air red-faced, he took immediate note of the occupants.
The three Headmasters were all there, with Dumbledore standing serenely beside the main window at the back of the room, the sunlight cascading down deep into the room, causing a glow to capture him. The other two simply glowered harshly at him, creating a shiver to strum throughout his body.
He saw Cedric and Viktor wave at him with smiles, though Diggory winked conspiratorially as well in a way that had Harry's nerves begin to settle slightly.
He simply ignored the haughtiness emanating from the French Champion. Beautiful beyond belief or not, she was a 'stuck up bitch', in the Chaser Trio's unified words.
A man and a woman who he did not know were seated by the wall. The gangly, unkempt, man of the duo carried a camera, though his eyes would keep being drawn to Fleur, and, to Harry's slight disgust, he noted a hint of drool escape the man's lips as he stared. The woman, blonde haired and staring at him with hungry looking eyes, held a notepad beside a floating quill.
"Ah, Harry, glad to see you here at last."
Harry nodded mutely at his Headmaster, tuning out the words of the unknown woman who introduced herself as a Rita Skeeter.
"Come on, Albus! Photographs and interviews with the… four champions. The people of this country need to hear their story." Her stare never left the scar on his forehead. "And, of course, the thrill of the boy-who-lived participating? I do not believe the printing presses would be able to keep up!"
Harry sidled away, manoeuvring himself behind a bemused Krum and an annoyed Cedric.
Dumbledore let out an exasperated sigh. "You are here under my watch, Miss Skeeter, and only by the grace of my own allowance have I not had you removed from the castle boundaries. Though I do not care all too much for how you portray my image to the masses…" Shadows seemed to be drawn to his form. He could see the others in the room start to sweat, and he could feel his face gain the tell-tale signs of droplets beginning to form. All the while, Albus Dumbledore stood with a smile etched on his face. "Well now, the students of this school are under my protection, Miss Skeeter, and, as such, will not be harmed. That does indeed include by mental harm derived from tabloid journalism. Do I make myself clear?"
The room began to settle slowly back to normal, and Harry let out a breath he did not realise had become stuck in his throat. What he had just witnessed only scratched the surface of what he knew his Headmaster to be capable of. 'The path to power is long and fraught with peril, Harry. Sacrifice, pain, and suffering lie beyond the veil of shadows that encapsulate the land of our peaks. To become strong requires pure strength of will. Our emotions can fuel the strength of our magic. Love is one of the most powerful boosts that can influence our own artistry in the world. Sometimes, however, others lose their way, and their hate, anger, and pain, will increase their power. My advice is to not let yourself become lost in that way, though I do not believe it to be possible.'
Rita Skeeter nodded, but Harry easily noticed the anger that she was showing overtook the inherent fear that should have been there instead.
"Thank you for the display, Albus, but if you do not mind, I would like to take my place upon this podium."
Ollivander, according to Professor Dumbledore, was a magical enigma. He had somehow managed to perform the impossible, and create a vacuum within magic itself, causing him to effectively cut himself off from magical observation entirely. It was how he could sneak up on people with such skill. A magical being had the essence of magic flowing continuously throughout their bodies, which included their senses. Ollivander, by creating a void where his magic stemmed from, became more than invisible, only choosing to be seen when he removed the bubble of nothingness and came back to the realm of observation. Harry suspected that there was more to it than that but decided to let things lie. The wandmaker was strange and set a chill down his spine, but Harry knew it was only due to the unnaturalness of his magical lack of magic that set it off.
Harry let out a small wave, receiving a slight tilt of the head in return.
"So then, shall we have our lovely lady go before the gentlemen?"
The girl strode forward proudly, her Headmistress taking a place beside her. Fleur handed a thin and flowery designed wand over to the waiting hands of the wand master before her.
"My, my, such a beautifully made wand. I, of course, go for more practicality and simple designs. Wand lore is becoming a dying art upon Albion, and as such tis only I and my family that are the crafters upon the isle. With so many on the mainland, each one can take time to create the perfect aesthetic. But even then, such a masterpiece of art this one is." He swished the wand elegantly through the air, a proud look from the French Champion lighting up the room. "And, oh my, a core of a strand of Veela hair."
"From my Grandmozzer. My seester 'as an 'air from my mozzer."
"Quite. A Veela hair core can be extremely temperamental to the wrong user. Unique in such a way that only another Veela-Witch may utilise it successfully. I do not use such things in my own wands, but I daresay that this wand is exceptionally powerful, and is definitely a perfect match for yourself." He waved the wand once more, creating a bouquet of flowers, which he gifted with a slight bow to Madame Maxime. "The wand is appropriate, and I judge it weighed, measured, and not found wanting.
"Ah, shall we take yourself next, Mr Krum?"
Viktor and his Headmaster stepped forward.
"Here," grunted Krum, releasing a thick, branch lookalike over to Ollivander.
"I would recognize this anywhere. Gregorovitch make, Dragon Heartstring…"
"East Asian, I think he told me. One ov his last."
"My old friend had managed to forgo beauty of acceleration. His wands never had the refinement of the pleasing looks that others may form, but I refuse to ignore the incredible way he had managed to create a perfect tool for increasing the power of the spells that pass through it. Do not think me judgmental of your wand, Mr Krum. I do indeed judge this weighed, measured, and not found wanting. Look after it well."
Krum stepped back, casting a scathing look to the reporter still sat in the room. Harry smiled slightly. The older boy had told him of his disdain for the media many a time now. He looked forward, seeing Dumbledore with a hand lightly placed on Cedric's shoulder as Ollivander twirled his wand about.
"Unicorn hair. I remember plucking this from a particularly feisty one. Left me with bruises I shall not forget lightly."
Harry's brows raised slightly. Ollivander was a man, and had managed to gain Unicorn tail hairs himself… 'This magical skill he has. It can even fool the senses of such a creature as a Unicorn?'
"Not a very particularly amazing animal it was by any means. However, it matched with you perfectly and does not detract from that. Your magical core resonated with this more than I believe I have seen with any of the same kind. I am not one for much life advice, but I can clearly see that it has formed a unique attachment to you. Wands, I believe, develop thought of their own in some cases, and this one has created a great bond with you. Never shall you lose this, even in the most dire of circumstances. I would advise maybe a career in Healing, Mr Diggory. Your wand loves to help and heal, though I sense it will protect you even at the cost of itself if it has to. I have weighed and measured this wand, and I do not find it wanting."
Harry stepped forward, though there was no one to stand by his side. Two looks of pity came his way, until the door to the room opened, and an Auburn-haired beauty stepped inside.
"Professor, Harry, so sorry I'm late. I almost forgot about this until a student reminded me. I just left them with some important reading and let them go a little early." Professor Vector giggled lightly at the thought of it all.
Her eyes brightened as she near skipped towards him. He could feel the smile form unbidden upon his face as she came to his side. The back of her hand slid gently in his palm, raising to gently touch his arm in a show of support. "You had no Headmaster to stand beside, so I volunteered to take their place. Flitwick also asked to do so, as did McGonagall, however I managed to get there first."
"Lovely to see you again, Miss Vector, however, I am here for Mr Potter's benefit, so if you please."
A weight began to form in his stomach as he tentatively drew out his wand. The contours and grooves ever so familiar to him were a friendly familiarity as the wood left his person.
"Ah yes, I do indeed remember this wand. I did sell this to you but did not make it myself. Created by an ancestor centuries ago as an experiment into other wand cores, he decided to replicate a fairy tale told passed down through the ages. Formed into a wand by pure luck and able to function because of this doubly so. I know of other's attempts, as I have tried to create one myself to no such luck." The wand swished, and Harry felt a burning jealousy he did not know he could form build up at Ollivander create luminescent starlight with his wand. "Thestral tail hair. Powerful. Special. Unique. Just like yourself, Mr Potter. Unlike other cores, it is impossible to state the benefits and weaknesses of such a thing. Yet, I have weighed it. I have measured it. And I do not find it wanting." With that, he returned Harry's wand, which was hurried back into his robes.
Rita Skeeter smiled like a shark – a venomous look directed straight at him causing him to shudder in discomfort.
"Thank you, Garrick, that was most informative," Dumbledore spoke jovially. Harry could feel Vector pressed up against him, her hand curving to the back of his neck in protectiveness. "Most enlightening indeed. I thank you all for this small event, and I would recommend going outside for a spell. Enjoy the natural warmth and sunshine whilst you can."
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos! And perhaps a couple of interviews?"
Dumbledore sighed, knowing that the reporter would not stop being a nuisance until she had her way. "If you must."
Harry watched as the other three champions lined up, their Headmasters placing themselves tactfully behind them so as to create a near artistic picture for the Daily Prophet. He, however, was having none of this. The door to the room opened, and Harry took a step out of it.
"Harry, where are you off to? You should be here, pride of place!" Skeeter shouted after him.
"No thank you, Miss Skeeter, I don't really like having my photo taken, if that is okay with you?"
"But, Harry," she hurried over to him, causing him to freeze slightly when she grabbed his arms without permission, tugging him forcibly to where the rest were standing. Harry could see Dumbledore's face darken, and Vector palm her wand as she stalked over to the pushy reporter. "I, and by that account, the whole of the country, want to hear your story."
"But I don't want to tell my story," he said with a quiet and withdrawn demeanour. "Let go of me." He shifted slightly but her grip was iron. "Please, just let go of me."
"Rita, that is enough," Dumbledore growled, receiving only an ice glare in return.
"Albus, the Wizarding World demands to know the life of their saviour." A hungry look passed on her face as she turned back to face him. There was a near glint of madness that Harry could see deep behind her eyes. She licked her lips and revealed sharp, white, teeth. "What stories, and… more, could be told from this one, hmm? Harry, dear, would you like to tell all truths to Miss Skeeter?"
"Not really, no." He heard a snicker of laughter at the bluntness of his words, and the shock of being told an outright no caused Skeeter to let go of him in astonishment. "Thank you, Miss Skeeter, but I really should be going. It… was nice meeting you? I think."
"Do you mock me, boy?" she snarled.
"I do not think you are a nice person," Krum interrupted. "Harry haz said he does not want to talk. You are being nasty, and I do not like it."
Harry sent a thankful look over to his friend, spotting Cedric moving in behind them sporting an angry looking frown.
"Come on, Harry, lets get you away from this insect." Septima Vector gently tugged him out of the room. Behind them, as the door started to close, Harry could feel waves of magic laced air heat up as a slowly speaking Viktor Krum started to raise his voice at the (he assumed in his mind's eye) cowering reporter.
A few minutes after, Viktor Krum stood in front of Harry and Septima, his arms crossed over his chest as he sighed ruefully. "I do not like newspapers and people who write in them," he said to them. "And now you are my friend, so I do not like them more."
"You really do have some amazing friends, Harry," Vector giggled.
"Yeah," Harry looked between them. "I guess I do."
"Could I leave this wayward Wizard in your care, Mr Krum?"
"I do not understand your meaning."
She laughed lightly, her care for her charge visible upon her beautiful features. "I mean if you could look after him for me. I believed that that was to be my challenge for today, however I indeed see he is already in safe hands."
"Ah, I think I understand now. Yes, I will of course. Harry is my friend, and friends look after each other."
Vector gave Harry's cheek a light pat of affection, followed by a beatific smile that heated up both boys' cheeks, turned on the spot, and walked away. Harry turned to Krum, who was staring slightly with a raised brow at Vector's slight sway of her hips. "Viktor?"
"Hmm? Ah, Harry." He returned to the land of the present with a sheepish grin. "Your teacher is very…"
"Yes."
"Ha!" His arm came around Harry's shoulder. "Do you haff your broom? Want to race? Not many can keep up, and I like to practice, yes?"
"Sure, think, Viktor. Meet me outside, I need to go grab my broom from my dorm."
Harry jogged to his room, grabbing his Firebolt when he arrived after changing into some more sportwear acceptable clothing, and headed back downstairs where his new friend was waiting for him.
The rest of the day was spent simply enjoying it. Harry and Krum danced high in the sky, laughs and grins coming naturally to them; they were to be later joined by Cedric Diggory and a Beauxbatons girl that Harry learned was named Anna and had just been scouted recently to the Luxembourg team. The quartet pushed each other fully, but all had fun as they did so. The crowd that had formed below them were taking photos and pointing and making shouted comments that none of them could hear. Harry could even see Skeeter and her photographer down on the ground, yet he chose to deliberately ignore her presence and instead focus on the thrill of flying.
None of them released a Snitch to the air. None of the four wished to compete over something so trivial as Quidditch. They raced and twirled through forms only seen to themselves.
For a few simple hours, Harry forgot about the tournament. He forgot about the strangeness he was feeling in his heart and in his gut. He forgot about the thoughts that had started to grace his mind in quiet hours of solitary peace. He forgot about looming threats and potential harm. He forgot about an uncertain future.
This simple happiness was something he grasped with both hands, for who knew how much longer he could hold on to it without it slipping from his reach and into the abyss of doubt.
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The six of them shared a strange bond. It would have been seven if Oliver had not graduated at the end of the last school year, and as such it did feel a little strange to them all. Almost like a sense of hollowness that they could not shake away.
Fred and George were, of course, connected in a way that none of the others could comprehend. Identical twins that Harry suspected had some form of two-way mental communication that went beyond telepathy. He never had a sibling, and after living with Dudley, did not know if he could ever have handled one. However, he saw how the two were with each other, and his heart burned with a desire known as envy, though he knew not the name for it.
Alicia and Angelina were best friends. They had oft told him the story of how that came to be. Alicia had stumbled into a carriage on the Hogwarts Express as a brand new first year, landing onto the lap of Angelina who had simply sat their slack jawed. Apparently, Angelina had said some kind of flirtatious one-liner that had Alicia howling with laughter at the stupidity of it, and so the story of their friendship blossomed.
Oliver was always the big brother character of the group, and even though he was no longer there, they all remembered fondly how he had acted around them. Fanatic or not, he showed a caring nature for his players that none could ever refute… even if he did train them bordering upon abuse.
Of course, not even Harry was dense enough to forget the bond between Katie and himself. It was powerful, rivalled only by the lightning quick build-up that Dora had launched at him. His and hers relationship was a slow burn that now shone like the sun, and with it, there were doors unlocked that allowed him to let others in. But it all seemed to start and end with Katie.
The Professor's were a strange family to him, other friends were important, and he cherished how they had all developed. Not to forget his comradeship with Neville and Fay, whom he knew he could never live without. But no, Katie was someone important, so important, that he had long since realised that without her he was nothing. Professor Vector had pointed out once, not in an unkind way, that that was an unhealthy way of functioning, before releasing a sad smile that had his own freeze in strangled despair. She had said Katie's name wistfully, but her eyes had grown distant as her gaze seemed to move through him.
'A crutch,' was what she had referred to Katie as, and Harry had wanted to argue, but he was not ignorant of how the soul worked, nor the rational aspects of the mind, and so did not verbalise his disagreement.
Yet there was something that the six of them had: one unity that could never be truly explained. He could have chalked it up to the sports aspect, but Ginny Weasley did not fit the boundaries. Nor did his playing with Tutshill or the National side have the same impact.
They were a clique amongst themselves.
They were a support he needed.
They were the foundations of his family.
All of them.
Author's Notes
No real author's notes for this chapter. At least, none that helps with story development. I get a mixed number of reviews from people – a combination of 'amazing and brilliant,' which, by the way, is absolutely something that I appreciate fully. I do also appreciate the speculations and questions; however, I get an equal amount of reviews badmouthing and insulting this fic. I get it, some people won't like what I write, which is basically a damaged, almost angst filled Harry. But I know how this story will end, and I think that people who only read stories to expect a happy ending are quite childish. The world really does not work like that. How can you expect true fulfilment from a character if you don't experience their trials and tribulations, their darkness as well as light? I wanted to make my Harry a character who earns his way to the finish line, and this is one major way canon Harry Potter falls dramatically short. In truth, canon Harry does not really earn anything. He is a self-depreciative ball of depression and angst, sure, but everything just sort of a falls into place for him. I want to showcase how my Harry has the talent and skill, alongside the darkness that pervades his life. Think of his story as karmic in nature – we are all guilty of self-induced repercussions and Harry is the worse for it.
Anyway, long story short, I know the endgame for this story, and I know why things happen the way they do. I realise it can be a bit much simply asking you to wait until the big reveal or whatever, but I dislike exposition just for its own sake. There will be answers to all questions, but a whole load of them will be at story's end. But I am not infallible. If anyone has any questions regarding the story, that I can actually answer, don't hesitate to ask. Maybe not by PM though, I cannot remember the last time I even checked my messages.
Next Chapter: First Task