Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last week, the response this fic continues to get amazes me every day

"We need to talk." Terry said, a grave expression on his face. His eyes were narrowed, and maybe that's what made Harry realise, or maybe it was the furtive glances he'd been giving Harry for weeks, the frown on his face whenever he saw him, or how his lips were pursed tight, similar to when Professor McGonagall got mad at the Weasley twins, or Peeves. Maybe it was a cumulation of all of the factors. Because now, standing in the common room surrounded by gossiping 'claws all enthusing about the task, Harry realised. Terry knew.

Harry nodded shortly. His face blanched. This had been his worst fear for so long - not somebody finding out, but Terry finding out. He was terrified that Terry wouldn't forgive him, that the fight they'd had in second year about trust would come round again and this time it wouldn't be resolved.

"Outside?" Harry asked, clasping his clammy hands together to try to stop them from shaking.

"Yeah." Terry responded, his voice quiet.

They walked out of the common room in silence.

"How did you know?" Harry croaked out as soon as they made their way into an empty corridor - it was a rare Hogwarts' corridor that wasn't laden with portraits of nosey dead wizards. His mouth had gone dry, his throat hoarse. He'd had to force the question out, force himself to speak.

"I... I had suspicions something was up with you since Harry Potter's name got read out of the goblet... since your name got read out." Terry narrowed his eyes as he searched Harry's face for a reaction. Harry just ducked it down, avoiding his gaze. "You've just been acting weird since then, nervous, angry, scared. Your obsession with the library... Today just confirmed my suspicions... you weren't sitting with us. You weren't there."

"I thought that might be a problem." Harry replied, unsure of what else he could even say. "I didn't know what else to do."

"Don't worry," Terry began, the bitterness evident in his tone, "I covered for you, said you were probably sitting with Nev, or Blaise - and everyone else was too busy looking for Harry Potter to realise you were missing..." he frowned, as though realising the irony in what he just said. "You and him... you and Potter. I still don't know how this happened. How you've managed to hide for so long, fake your identity and just hide in plain sight... it's positively Slytherin - the Ravenclaw intelligence plays a part, of course, but the Slytherin cunning..." Terry scoffed, his eyes firmly fixed on the ground as though he couldn't even bare to look at Harry. "You lied to me."

"I didn't." Harry replied defensively. "At least, not on purpose. I didn't know who I was until you told me, I didn't know about who Harry Potter meant to the wizarding world - fuck, I didn't even know my parents weren't just drunk assholes who died in a car crash. Then I did find out... I was just scared. Fucking terrified actually. I didn't know what it meant, all I knew was that it was safer to hide my identity... safer... and, well, honestly... I wanted to screw Dumbledore over." Terry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Dumbledore? Why would you hate Dumbledore? I understand hating him now, after what happened in first year, or just his general rashness in endangering us..." Terry trailed off, clearly reconsolidating his image of Dumbledore

Harry scoffed. "Why wouldn't I? He ruined my life." Terry looked at him questioningly. "You remember what the Prophet reported? About my life and how Dumbledore was to blame for my 'death'."

"He chose where you lived. Left you with muggles and that meant the Ministry couldn't keep tabs on you." Terry replied, and Harry shut his eyes, hoping Terry would realise what he was saying sooner rather than later - just because he had revealed the truth about his childhood to Terry, doesn't mean he wants to rehash it now.

"Yeah."

Terry's eyes widened, clearly putting the pieces together. "He put you in that house." Harry nodded. "That's why you hate him. For putting you with them."

"Yeah. I... When I found out my identity I knew it was the perfect way to get him back - the Sorting Hat practically told me to. Somebody had already mentioned how he was responsible for my living situation, so I knew being missing would put him under bad press, and trust me he deserves that." Harry flinched as Terry scoffed. "I never expected everyone to presume I was dead."

"And you didn't think it would be a good idea to tell people? Even if it was anonymously."

"Why? Why should I be this symbol for the wizarding world. I'm fourteen for fuck's sake. That's not my job. I just wanted to be normal, I want to be normal, and not spending everyday looking over my shoulder for Black or one of the other death-eaters we know still roam about."

Terry bit his lip. "Right." He replied shortly, his head pointedly facing away from Harry and down into the dark corridor.

"My entire life has been... Hogwarts was meant to be a fresh start."

Terry nodded, and for the first time Harry felt relieved that he'd told him about his life at the Dursleys. Ever since he'd told Terry he'd felt anxious every time he saw him - which, considering the slept in the same room, was a lot - scared that Terry would see him differently, treat him differently. Not that Terry had (other than a few looks now and again... though,, now Harry thought about it, maybe that had been about the Potter fiasco).

"I still don't get why you didn't feel like you could trust me about this."

"I do trust you!" Harry insisted.

"Well you clearly don't!" Terry retorted bitterly. "You didn't trust me enough to tell me about this-"

"Don't you see that this is bigger than us? That this is about safety - I mean... last year if everyone knew who I was, I'd be dead. Black would've killed me. Besides, what's wrong with wanting to just be normal." Harry interrupted.

Terry's face blanched, as though he only just realised something Harry had been living with for a year: Black was trying to murder him. His actual life was under threat - if Black knew who he was... "Look, Harry, I get why you wanted to hide who you were... I just don't get why you had to hide it from me. Don't you see? I could've helped you."

"Just because my life's screwed up doesn't mean I need to mess everything up for everyone around me. I wouldn't ever want to put you under that stress, put you in danger like that."

"That's what friends are for!" Terry retorted angrily. "To share the burden together."

Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I'm sorry." He repeated. It was the only response which actually meant anything anyway.

"Yeah..." Terry trailed off, leaning back against the wall. "How did you even manage this anyway - hiding your identity, making your name disappear on the Hogwarts' roster?"

"All an accident." Harry replied. "When Luke adopted me I changed my name - I wanted to distance myself from my relatives, at that point I didn't know my parents were good people. All the Dursleys told me were that they were alcoholics and reckless people who didn't have jobs and just stuck me with them. And my appearance... well, you know I wear contacts. Originally I wanted to not have my mother's eyes, so I opted for blue. I never changed it 'cause it helped my disguise."

"And your hair?"

"I woke up one time and it was blonde." Harry nervously teetered around the edge, knowing where this conversation was likely heading.

Terry raised his eyebrows sceptically. "So it just magically changed overnight."

"Not quite overnight... After the coma." Harry explained, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm a metamorphmagus." He said, quickly moving the subject on.

"A metamorphmagus?" Terry's eyes lit up.

Harry chuckled lightly, running his hand through his hair. He didn't need to do it to change the colour, but it felt easier, more natural to morph it under his hand. "Yeah. Found out in second year by accident." Harry omitted the part about the chamber. He preferred to not bring that up, because bringing that up meant thinking about how he'd manipulated Terry and raced towards his death like a stupid Gryffindor, and he definitely didn't need to remind Terry of that right now, especially when he'd only just calmed him down from the Potter debacle - the metamorphmagus reveal was enough to distract Terry (a Ravenclaw through and through, Harry thought with a wry smile).

"So you're naturally dark-haired." Terry half-stated, crouching down to sit on the cold stone floor. Harry sat down across from him. "Huh." He added. "All those dumb blonde jokes..." he grinned at Harry, and for a second it felt like normal. Then Terry's grin disappeared. "What are you going to do about the second task?"

"Nothing." Harry said. "I'm not playing their stupid games. Whoever put me in this damn cup, whether it was Dumbledore or Voldemort or Fudge or whoever, I'm not just their little puppet who's going to do exactly what they want me to."

"What if it's dangerous?"

"More dangerous than a dragon?"

"I mean... what if you have to compete. What if it's a duel against another competitor - you can't just not fight then, they'd knock you out and put you in some lab for testing. You have to stay awake or they'll figure you out." Terry sounded concerned. It made Harry hopeful - hopeful that their friendship wasn't over. "Plus they all have a clue. You have nothing." Terry reminded him.

Harry tapped hand against the floor. "I'm not sure what there is I can do."

"Train." Terry told him, the 'duh' unspoken.

"However much I train is irrelevant. The others all have two, three years on me - if it's a duel, I'm screwed and that's that."

Terry shook his head. "Never count yourself out." A wry grin made it's way onto his face, an expression Harry had seen several times before Terry made a stupid joke or pointed out a lewd object. "You're Harry freakin' Potter."

Harry grinned, relief flowing through his body. He didn't even flinch when Terry said freak.

"Oh. One more thing,"

"There's more?" Terry turned to him incredulously.

"Yeah... I'm a parselmouth."

"What?!"

Terry wordlessly slid over a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Harry Potter: Has the Boy-Who-Lived abandoned us?"

"Another classic Skeeter article." Terry muttered as he angrily bit down on a piece of toast.

"Great." Harry replied, flickering his eyes through the contents; Harry Potter asking for Ministry reforms; Harry Potter blames the wizarding world for stopping to look for him; is Harry Potter a squib?

"Ministry reforms?" Terry asked after Harry had a minute to read through it.

Harry spared a glance around, no one was nearby, "I was talking to Warrington..." he started in a hushed voice, "I don't know how she heard any of this."

"What did you even say?"

"I don't know... I was angry. People kept trying to talk to me about, well, everything, and then even Cassius Warrington wouldn't shut up, asking questions like a Krum fanboy."

"Isn't Warrington..." Terry trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Yeah. He's an ass whenever we play Quidditch, reserved too. It was... odd to say the least."

"So you ranted to Warrington about the Ministry?" Terry prompted.

"I think I said something about how the ministry stopped looking for me when they realised I wasn't on the Hogwarts register, saying that for all they knew I was just a squib - instead they labelled me dead because they didn't want to consider the truth that their precious Harry Potter is a squib."

"You don't seriously believe that bullshit." Terry and Harry jumped as Michael clambered onto the bench across from them.

"No... Well, maybe..." Harry trailed off, "he didn't compete in the first task... and he's not at Hogwarts... maybe he doesn't have magic."

"Nah. I reckon he's just pissed off - can't blame him either. Besides, how'd a squib defeat You-Know-Who anyway. It doesn't make sense." Michael commented as he started to laden his plate with food.

"It'd be reductive to ignore the possibility," Terry piped up and Harry furtively shot him a grateful smile. "I mean, know one really knows what happened that night. We don't know how You-Know-Who was defeated, or to what extent he was - they didn't find a body, remember... And, you've got to admit it Mike, it would make a lot of sense."

Mike shrugged dismissively. "Maybe. I don't believe it though."

"No?" Harry asked, curious as to what Michael actually thought of Harry Potter - and thus him.

"Nope. He's not dead as everyone that, so I'm guessing he's been off training somewhere, some elite, private academy - the kid's a war hero after all, it was naïve to think he'd actually slum it here with us. He's rich - famous and rich. He probably has a mansion full of people there to attend his every desire - I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it, I certainly wouldn't want his life..."

Harry ignored Terry's eyes on him as he hummed in agreement. "Why do you think he's been training?"

"To fight Black maybe... or..." Michael's eyes gleamed, a clear sign that he knew something he thought that they didn't - something important.

"Or what?" Harry asked, growing impatient.

Michael leaned in theatrically, beckoning Harry and Terry forwards, as he began at a whisper, "There's rumours you see, rumours running around the ministry, the ICW. It's likely why they decided to bring back the Triwizard Tournament this year... as a distraction."

"Distraction from what?"

"The higher-ups... apparently they think that the war isn't over. That Black's stirring things up again, gathering up the old Death Eaters, recruiting new members..."

"That's not exactly news." Terry leaned back unimpressed.

"But that's not all," Mike continued. "They think... they think You-Know-Who is back."

"What?" Terry hissed.

"Bertha Jorkins' disappearance," Michael lifted a finger, "The Quidditch World Cup," he raised another finger, "Harry Potter's return." he lifted a third finger, waggling them about importantly.

"That doesn't mean shit." Terry replied harshly.

"That's what the public knows Terry... think about what other information there might be out there, that the ministry is hiding from us. It wouldn't be the first time a government's kept secrets to placate the public.

"How do you even know this? Who did you hear it from?" Terry quizzed, but he was losing some of his strength, his unwavering believes cracking beneath him. Perhaps it was different for him... he was a half-blood like Mike and like Harry, yes, but he'd been raised in the wizarding world. His parents had lived through the war, and the reign of terror Voldemort imposed on the public. For people born in non-magical homes like Mike (and, to an extent, Harry) the name 'Voldemort' equated to evil, but it was the same as hearing the name 'Grindelwald' - he was a relic of the past, dead. For Terry the name 'Voldemort' stood for the stories in every newspaper when he was a child, the nightmares his parents woke up screaming from, he was something of a myth, the infamous bogey man... except now he wasn't in the past, but the present. Now he was their problem too. A threat to them.

"Ernie. He heard it from Susan. Susan Bones."

Terry inhaled sharply. Harry knew why: Susan Bones' aunt was the head of the DMLE, a high up and important member of the Ministry. A trustworthy source.

It meant that the Ministry thought Voldemort was back. Which all but confirmed it as the truth... the Ministry was used to burying things, repressing them and shoving them down, hiding their doubts and fears from the public and from each other - not even daring to whisper the possibility of the truth.

This... this meant that Voldemort was back. This meant that their was a war on the horizons, one which Harry would have no choice but to fight in.

It meant that the Triwizard Tournament was the least of his problems.