one floo under

by Greyff

Harry Potter ideas i wrote out to amuse and possibly inspire, no intent to continue. Remember that flames belong in a fireplace except on no-burn days when they aren't allowed at all. thank you.

12. Chapter 12: floo death

one floo under, chapter 12 floo death

this idea came about while reading a Master of Death thing and wondering if X would be a funny way to approach the subject.

* break *

"You can't leave him with them, Albus. They're the worst sort of muggle!"

"Don't worry, Minerva. It's all taken care of. I'll just leave this note here to explain."

The baby gurgled a bit as the two adults left.

"RIGHT," said a voice that was soft in volume but still managed to capture attention and somehow sound like the chiseling of letters into a gravestone. "SEEN THIS BEFORE. NOT IMPRESSED."

The door opened and a woman with a pinched face looked down at the baby with a curious expression, then over towards the rather larger figure.

"HELLO, PETUNIA DURSLEY NEE EVANS. MIGHT I HAVE A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME?"

Petunia shrieked and slammed the door closed.

"OH BOTHER."

"Likely just some kid playing some trick. I'll straighten him out right away," said a male voice before the door opened and a rather heavyset man came out with a cricket bat in one hand. "See here... you?!"

"VERNON DURSLEY. MIGHT ONE ASK YOU TO CUT A BIT OF THE FAT FROM YOUR DIET? YOUR ARTERIES WILL THANK YOU."

Vernon screamed and slammed the door shut.

"WELL, SO MUCH FOR THE POLITE METHOD," said the skeletal figure as he bent down towards the child. "REALLY DON'T LIKE THIS SETUP, YOU KNOW. A BIT OVERMUCH, DON'T YOU THINK?"

The child cooed and gurgled and tried to play with the bony finger in front of him.

"RIGHT YOU ARE, LAD. STIFF UPPER LIP AND ALL, FOR ALL THAT YOU'VE GOT DROOL ON IT. WELL, IF POLITENESS DIDN'T WORK - PERHAPS IT IS TIME TO BE A BIT MORE DIRECT."

With that, Death picked Harry up and went into the Dursley home. He didn't open the door, so much as the door got out of his way and then reformed behind him.

A cricket bat went through his head and bounced off the wall a few seconds later.

"VERNON DURSLEY, I AM HERE FOR YOU."

Another set of screams.

"NOT THAT WAY, YOU TWIT. THOUGH IF YOU EAT LIKE THAT AND DON'T GET PROPER EXERCISE WE'LL BE CONDUCTING BUSINESS A BIT SOONER THAN I LIKE."

Another scream.

"NICE THROW, BY THE WAY. LEARNED THAT AT SMELTINGS I CAN SEE. USEFUL LIFE SKILL."

"W-w-w-w-w-wha?"

"NOW, INTRODUCTIONS I SUPPOSE," said Death, his voice never rising in volume a bit but carrying as if it were of far more importance than simply the local laws of physics. Which it was, of course. "I AM DEATH."

"We rather gathered that," managed Vernon despite trying and failing to hide behind the kitchen table.

"HUMOR. GOOD. IN ANY CASE, A WELL-INTENTIONED IDIOT AND HIS ACCOMPLICE JUST DROPPED PETUNIA'S SISTER'S SON OFF AT YOUR FRONT DOOR WITH A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION. TERRIBLY IMPOLITE OF HIM, WASN'T IT?"

"Y-y-yes?" asked Vernon.

"WELL, BUGGER HIM. HARRY IS HERE FOR A BIT, BUT I'LL BE TAKING HIM FROM TIME TO TIME AND BRINGING HIM BACK."

"Wait, that's Lily's child?"

"AFRAID SO. LILY AND HER HUSBAND WERE KILLED BY TOM RIDDLE AND YOU ARE THE NEAREST NEXT OF KIN. HERE."

The baby's basket and letter were placed on the table. Death then reached up one sleeve and grabbed a large sack and placed it on the table where it made a heavy metallic clunk.

"What is THAT?" asked Vernon, not making a move towards either.

"THAT'S FROM ME," said Death. "PAYMENT. A BENEFIT OF BEING DEATH IS YOU KNOW WHERE EVERYONE'S BONES ARE BURIED. AND A FEW OTHER THINGS AS WELL. COLLECTED SOME OF IT OVER THE YEARS, IN CASE I EVER GOT A VACATION. SUCH AS WHEN A GANGSTER PERISHED AND FELL IN THE RIVER IN LONDON PROPER. THIS SHOULD PAY FOR BOTH HARRY'S AND YOUR OWN SON'S EDUCATION AND SUPPLIES."

"It's money?" asked Vernon.

"YES. THE BOY HAS A DESTINY, A PROPHESY, AND SO ON. SEEMS A SHAME TO NOT HAVE A BUDGET EITHER, THOUGH I ADMIT THAT'S FREQUENTLY THE CASE WITH HEROES."

"I thought they were hiding from a 'Voldemort'," protested Petunia, straightening up a bit now that it appeared her time had not come after all.

"SAME TWIT. GAVE HIMSELF THE NAME OF 'RUNNING FROM DEATH' BECAUSE HE LIKED THE ANAGRAM. SO HE HAS BAD TASTE ON TOP OF BEING A MURDEROUS TWIT WHO GAVE ME ENTIRELY TOO MUCH WORK," said Death. "I'D LIKE A VACATION ONCE IN AWHILE. REALLY, IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK? STOP BLOODY KILLING EACH OTHER FOR A BIT AND LET ME CATCH UP ON THE BACKLOG?"

"You said you'll come back for him?" asked Vernon, coming to the same conclusion as Petunia. He was pretty sure that the boy would turn out to be a freak like those other freaks that had been around during that wedding fiasco. "Why not just take the freak child now and keep him out of normal people's business?"

"BECAUSE, VERNON DURSLEY, HE IS A CHILD. I AM DEATH. DOES CHILD-REARING SOUND LIKE ONE OF MY SKILLSETS?"

"Well, when you put it that way," allowed Vernon.

"So you'll be checking up on him then?" asked Petunia, getting the feeling that mistreating the spawn of her all-too-perfect sister might not be a good idea.

"INDEED. AND YOU'RE RIGHT - MISTREAT OR ABUSE THE CHILD AND I'LL KNOW. YOU DO NOT WANT TO MAKE ME ANGRY. YOU WOULD NOT LIKE ME WHEN I AM ANGRY."

"Eeep," said Vernon as the room turned swirling dark and cold and the faint smell of upturned soil swept through the room.

"I CAN BE MOST UNPLEASANT WHEN NECESSARY. DEATH CAN BE MERCIFUL, BUT RARELY FORGIVING. ANOTHER DEPARTMENT ENTIRELY FOR THAT."

"I'll bet," squeaked Vernon.

"AS FOR HARRY," said Death, returning the kitchen to normal, "I'LL BE TRAINING HIM."

"Y-you can't show up like that," said Petunia. "People will talk!"

"HMMM. TRUE." The six-foot-six-inch skeleton with the glowing blue eye sockets inspected his black hooded cloak for a moment, then seemed to shift and flow like water.

A woman stood there when everything stopped. A bit scandalously dressed perhaps, and pale white skin with hair the exact same shade. "HOW IS THIS? MOST PEOPLE WILL ASSUME I WORK IN A HEAVY METAL BAND. OR AT LEAST, THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME I DRESSED IN THIS ASPECT."

"Still standing out a bit much," suggested Petunia.

The same shifting happened, and how an impeccably dressed man with a pinstripe suit and umbrella stood there. "BETTER?"

"Actually, yes," said Petunia. "A bit European in style, but that we could pass off as one of Vernon's clients."

"VERY WELL," said Death. "I'LL BE IN TOUCH."

* break *

"DON'T," said a familiar voice.

Vernon stopped, the rolled-up newspaper in his hand a few inches from striking the child.

"THEY ARE OLD ENOUGH NOW TO MEET ME," said Death, leaning against the stove and regarding the broken dish on the floor. "I THINK YOUR SON MIGHT BENEFIT FROM THIS AS WELL."

"You're not taking my Duddy-kins!" proclaimed Petunia from where she had just gathered the broom and dustpan.

"NOT IN THAT MANNER," said Death, rolling his eyes. "I AM EVERYWHERE AND EVERYWHEN. I COULD TAKE THE TWO OF THEM TO A GALAXY SO FAR AWAY THAT THE LIGHT HASN'T ARRIVED YET FOR A WEEK OF TRAINING AND BE BACK BEFORE AFTERNOON TEA. TAKING THE TWO OF THEM OFF TO A TIBET MONASTERY FOR A BIT OF MEDITATION TRAINING WOULD DO THEM GOOD."

"Still..." said Vernon.

"VERY WELL, DUDLEY DURSLEY WILL REMAIN HERE. HARRY WILL GO AND TRAIN."

* break *

"Don't pick a fight with Harry is all I'm saying," said Dudley.

"Why not?" asked Ernest.

"Because he knows karate and stuff," said Dudley. "Seriously. Remember that kid from fifth grade?"

"That one that was picking on us third graders? Face like a cement truck?"

"That's the one," said Dudley. "Guy was picking on me. Remember how he wasn't around for a week?"

"Yeah?" asked Ernest.

"Harry stood up for me. Said he didn't like bullies." Dudley shook his head. "Harry's off-limits."

* break *

"I MIGHT HAVE EXPECTED THIS," said Death. "COULD BE WORSE."

"Hey, I saw the parallels immediately," said Harry. "Both parents killed when I was a kid. Bad guy still out there. Training."

"EXCEPT HE WAS MUCH OLDER, YOU ARE TRAINING TO BECOME A WIZARD, AND YOU BOUGHT THAT COSTUME FROM A THRIFT STORE AND REFURBISHED IT."

"Well, I figured 'Batman' was copyrighted," said Harry.

"INDEED." Death considered the costume. "IN THIS REALITY AT LEAST. YOU KNOW. I JUST MIGHT HAVE SOMETHING..."

Harry looked up at the skeletal figure.

"YOU KNOW, THIS'LL PISS OFF SOMEONE RIGHT FIERCE," said Death. "LET'S DO IT."

* break *

"Wait, you're letting MY Duddy-kins go off with DEATH?!" exclaimed Petunia Dursley in shock.

"Look at the freak boy," said Vernon, letting out a deep breath at the end and shaking his head. "The boy has got a bit of growth in him. Death is going to pop by on a regular basis whatever we say about it. As long as he keeps that horse off the lawn. And it isn't like the neighbors see anything. Damn horse sitting at the curb, gleaming white, green fire for a mane, eyes like gaping holes into oblivion, and nobody sees it or comments on it."

"'gaping holes into oblivion'?" asked Petunia.

"Thought of that myself when I was stuck in traffic Tuesday," said Vernon, thinking it sounded clever and did fairly well describe what looking into the horse's eyes was like. "In any case, if Dudley gets to learn that fancy fighting - won't that do him well when he gets to Smeltings? Can be quite a bit rough there."

"I thought boxing..." said Petunia, knowing the reputation of Smeltings Academy. Caveat Smeltonia indeed.

"Boxing is useful, and no doubt Dudley will excel when he begins," said Vernon. "A bit of training beforehand can only help."

"Still, it's unnatural!" said Petunia.

"Actually, no, I've checked. Three of the parents in the office have children in one of those fighting arts things," said Vernon. "It's something they start going on and bragging about if you give them half a chance."

"Oh," said Petunia Dursley, thinking it all sounded quite unnatural and un-British but if it was something that ended up with child-bragging rights that made it quite a bit more respectable. "Still unnatural."

"ACTUALLY," said a very familiar voice. Back in the female form and looking like she'd just been at the kind of party that the Dursleys would never get invited to, much less attend. "DEATH IS COMPLETELY NATURAL. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO TRY TO CHEAT DEATH, AND THAT ITSELF IS PRETTY UNNATURAL. ALSO PRETTY MUCH DOOMED TO FAILURE. NICE HANG TIME ON THAT JUMP, BY THE WAY."

"Grble," said Vernon, realizing he was clinging to the wall like some overweight Spiderman and letting go.

"ACTUALLY," said another voice, "I HAVE A SUGGESTION."

"What?!" squeaked Vernon as something else registered on his awareness. "Another..."

"I LEFT MY HORSE AT THE CURB," said the Other. "DEATH. LOOKING GOOD FOR YOUR AGE."

"LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK," responded Death, voice never changing. "VERNON AND PETUNIA DURSLEY, MY COLLEAGUE - LIFE."

"Would you mind just staying in one shape?" pleaded Vernon Dursley.

"THAT IS ITSELF UNNATURAL. LIFE IS EVER-CHANGING, SHIFTING, GROWING," pointed out Death.

"I'm about to throw up," pointed out Vernon, trying not to look at Life and still getting quite nauseous.

"VERY WELL," said Life, with an air of long-suffering thrown in. The form stabilized finally on that of a well-endowed woman with green hair.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE, LIFE? I AM ALREADY INVOLVED DUE TO THE HALLOWS." Death leaned against the wall and raised an eyebrow. One of the reasons to use this form was that one could roll one's eyes or smirk or otherwise use expressions that were damn difficult on a skull.

"I MANIFESTED AS AN AVATAR SO THAT I MIGHT CONVERSE WITH THE FUNDAMENTALS AND OTHER ASPECTS," said Life. "I HAD AN IDEA."

"THAT DOES NOT BODE WELL," said Death, who had seen a few things in his/her time. "YOU REMEMBER THE LAST TIME."

"A MINOR MISCALCULATION," countered Life.

"THREE ENTIRE SPECIES WENT EXTINCT, OVER SEVEN HUNDRED BILLION DEAD," said Death. "IF I WAS NOT OMNIPRESENT, I'D STILL BE DEALING WITH THE BACKLOG."

"MY FINGER SLIPPED," said Life.

"Se-seven?" asked Vernon, following the conversation. He couldn't even imagine one billion of much of anything.

"SO, WHAT IS THIS IDEA THAT YOU WENT ROUND TO THE OTHER ASPECTS OF ETERNITY, AND WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION AMONGST MORTALS?" asked Death, inspecting her nails as she spoke. If Death was going to wear a form, might as well get mannerisms in there. No point in doing a job halfway.

"BECAUSE, THERE." Life reached out and twisted something that Vernon Dursley could swear he briefly almost saw.

"YOU MANIPULATED DNA?" asked Death.

"THE WIZARDS OF THIS WORLD HAVE A GENE FOR MAGIC," said Life. "IN SQUIBS, THE GENE IS COUNTERED BY A SECOND GENE. SO SQUIBS HAVE MAGIC BUT CANNOT ACCESS IT IN THE NORMAL MANNER. A BIT OF A WASTE. MAGIC CONCURS."

"MAGIC WOULD," said Death in a voice as dry as bones in a desert.

"SO DUDLEY DURSLEY IS NOW A SQUIB," said Life.

"WHAT?!" screeched Petunia.

"SO IS HIS MOTHER," said Life.

"WHAT?!" screeched Petunia.

"QUIET, DEAR. THE ADULTS ARE TALKING," said Life. "ALL THAT MEANS IS THAT YOU CAN NOW SEE THINGS THAT ONLY MAGICALS CAN, ANTI-MUGGLE WARDS ARE ONLY PARTIALLY EFFECTIVE, AND MAGICAL DETECTION METHODS REVEAL YOUR STATUS. REALLY, IT WAS ONLY A TINY LITTLE CHANGE THERE - YOU BOTH ALREADY HAD THE GENETICS FOR MAGIC. SCANNING THE TIMELINE SHOWS THERE WAS ACTUALLY A MORE THAN FIFTY PERCENT CHANCE THAT DUDLEY'S CHILDREN WOULD HAVE BEEN WIZARDLY TYPES."

"SO WHAT DID YOU MAKE DIFFERENT ABOUT SQUIBS?" asked Death. It was really all the same to him, but allowed it might be a bit more interesting.

"JUST THAT. COULDN'T GET TIME TO RETROACTIVE ANYTHING. DAMN SPOILSPORT," said Life.

"TIME DISLIKES A LOT OF THINGS. THOUGH SHE IS RATHER FOND OF THAT BRITISH TELEVISION PROGRAM. TIME IS WEIRD LIKE THAT," responded Death.

"WELL, WHATEVER," said Life, waving off the point. "WHAT'S IMPORTANT IS THE SCHOOL."

"SCHOOL?" asked Death, thinking she didn't like the sound of this.

"YES, AN ALTERNATIVE SCHOOL FOR MAGIC. THE ONES AVAILABLE ARE NO FUN AT ALL."

Death turned to Vernon Dursley. "IS IT JUST ME, OR DOES THIS SOUND LIKE A TERRIBLE IDEA IN THE MAKING?"

* break *

"Because I'm not going to get in a bloody argument with DEATH and LIFE and whatever else eternal truth is going to show up on our doorstep," said Vernon Dursley, who was a stupid hidebound prejudiced man - but there were degrees of stupid and he wasn't THAT completely stupid.

Petunia Dursley frowned, her pinched face looking especially pinched when she did that. Still, she could see the point sort of. She might get into a yelling match with a wizard, who could potentially turn her into a newt. Seeing what a pissed off avatar of Life itself could do to her? Her imagination might be a bit limited but her survival instinct was saying "let's not go there" in no uncertain terms.

"So, the boy is going off to school," said Vernon Dursley, smiling for the first time. "No cost to us. No having to drop him off or anything. A few more months to set everything up and then he's off to Atlan-piss or whatever it is."

"It'll be so much nicer with him gone," admitted Petunia.

* break *

Hermione Granger stared at the figure that apparently her parents couldn't quite properly see. They could see the envelope floating in midair from the comments though.

"The shadows when a car goes by," said her father.

Hermione glanced down as a car went by, noticing the shadows were exactly what one would expect from the horseman in front of her. Of course, if SHE could see them and her parents could NOT - how could there be shadows that would reflect what she saw as opposed to them?

"Light has different frequencies, is both a particle and a wave, and can be quite weird when situations permit."
The voice was soft but carried quite well, as if the sounds of everyday life around it quieted in fear or respect of those syllables.

"I heard that," squeaked her father.

The form seemed to solidify to Hermione's sight, and from the reactions of her parents - the individual involved was now fully visible to them as well.

"This may be better. Take the letter, Hermione Jean Granger. If you agree to come to this school, merely be touching the letter at the time and date indicated. If you refuse, simply do not. If you choose not to come, do not expect the offer to ever be extended again. You very likely will be approached by another school after you reach eleven years of age."

"Why can we see you now?" asked Hermione's mother. "When we couldn't earlier?"

"I chose to let you see me, so that you can help decide when the time comes," said the figure.

"Why do you look like..." Hermione's father made a gesture.

"Because I am he," said the figure. "I lived and died in England, but I'll be teaching at the Atlantis School For Talented Children until a living instructor is found for my classes. I am, in fact, the ghost of Edmund Halley and will be teaching mathematics and astronomy. I'm just letting some of the students know ahead of time before I get back to catching up on the subjects since my death."

"O-of course," said Hermione's father.

"Pardon, but I must visit three more homes tonight," said Halley, who then rode his horse up into the sky and away from the little home.

* break *

Nine years old was a bit young to start schooling abroad, according to some.

Some of those were already in Hogwarts or other schools. Some were disinclined to go off to a new school no matter who was teaching what. On learning that there were "muggle subjects" like English and Mathematics and Physics being taught - still others tore up the letters right there. Some dismissed the whole thing as a prank.

The Prophet got wind of it, pronounced it a prank and in very poor taste, and that was it as far as the majority of England was concerned.

* break *

Hermione Jean Granger, age nine, nodded to her parents as the clock ticked away. If this WAS an elaborate prank, for all that they didn't read anything magical, then that was one thing. On the other hand, if the letter was accurate - and this was their sole chance to learn more - then Hermione had a chance to get an education and not have to worry about somehow having all the books in the library abruptly burying her the way they had two years previously. Or any of the other little events that nobody had been able to explain.
At exactly eleven-o-clock on a Saturday, Hermione Jean Granger was clutching a letter in one hand in her home's kitchen. At one minute past, she erupted in glowing blue light and vanished.

She blinked once, twice, and then looked around. A Grecian ampitheatre was her first impression.

"First years through the yellow archway. Second years through the green. Third years through the orange one. Don't worry about the colors, they don't mean anything other than being convenient," said a Size Huge man who looked to be made of granite.

"Excuse me, not meaning to be impolite, but what ARE you?" asked an older student in black robes. Which caused Hermione to wonder if perhaps she should have worn something other than street clothes though the letter didn't actually list any uniform requirements.

"I'm a Titan, lad," said the figure, slapping himself on the chest. "Best to be polite to nonhumans here. We've quite an eclectic staff. Now off with you. We have to sort everyone into houses because all the magical schools are set up that way and we didn't have a particular reason to change that."

Hermione followed a crowd through the yellow archway, somewhat relieved that others were also wearing street clothes.

There was a brief moment of feeling things shift around her as she went through the archway, and then they were in a large cafeteria. Even though there were only around fifty students, it still took some time for everyone to take a seat.

"Right," said a ghostly figure approaching the stage in front. "Here now. We've got a little aptitude test set up to determine where your skills and ambitions may lie. It looks dangerous but you're not in danger of anything bu failing. During your stay here in Atlantis, you can retest once per year and see if you fit another House. Will the overseer for each House stand and introduce yourself and state what your House's specialty is when I call it? Perseus?"

A man already seated stood up. "Perseus of Perseus House. The House of Heroes. Courage, valor, combat skills. Swords and wands and being able to battle for your beliefs. We have an excellent duelling range and gymnasium, and are currently building a range for further honing of your skills. If you dream of being in Law Enforcement, bodyguard, or adventurer - we're your House."

"House Paracelsus," said the apparent Headmaster.

"House Paracelsus," said a woman, standing up. She was quite solid though, so Hermione doubted she was a ghost. Dark bronzed skin and black hair, so some ethnicity she wasn't quite familiar with? "Mary Gist, Paracelsus is the House Of Healers. Alchemy, Healing Magic, some Cherokee rituals deemed sufficient for outsiders to use, potion work mainly. We have a library and set of labs set up, with the greenhouses still under construction."

"House Thales," said a man with wild hair, standing up. "John Walker. Do you have a thirst for knowledge? Facts over philosophy? Then Thales might be suitable for you. Ours is the largest library and largest research facility, with plans to expand after finding sufficient people to supervise. Don't come to House Thales if you want to go charging at windmills or just learn about curing someone's ouchies. No coddling will go on in MY house, also no bullying or pranks. You come to House Thales to LEARN - we are not a social club."

"Yes," said the ghostly speaker at the main podium. "Also don't go to Thales for etiquette or diplomacy. House Hephaestus?"

What got up next was clearly nonhuman, apparently made entirely of metal and crystal. "House Hephaestus. Name: Galatea. Yes. THAT Galatea, I have been upgraded several times. No, Galatea wasn't my original name but I took a fancy to it. Unlike the others, I am not a professor here - I am strictly the Head of House. Eventually all House Heads will be dedicated employees, unlike some of the other schools. Hephaestus House is dedicated to making things. Crafting of every type, including using materials obtained from the non-magical end of things. Whereas Paracelsus is dedicated to healing and Thales to raw knowledge, my House is dedicated to function and utility. You can make it pretty, but it sure as hell needs to WORK."

"So," said the ghostly Headmaster as the construct sat down. "In short - Perseus for the would-be heroes, Paracelsus for the healers who patch up the heroes, Thales for the studious, and Hephaestus for the industrious. Get a meal in, at the end of which we'll be sending you into the dungeon for your sorting."

Hermione stared as someone offered the comment everyone was thinking.

"Did he just say dungeon?"

* break *

"Hermione Granger."

Hermione was QUITE nervous about things so far. Each person called had reappeared almost immediately but had clearly gone through SOMETHING. Each had emerged wearing a badge that declared their new House, and each was alive and not missing limbs or anything - but still it appeared that each had been quite thoroughly tested in some manner.

Clarence Clearwater's clothing had been smouldering.
Derrick Franks had emerged with a big grin, a SWORD clutched in one hand, and looking quite battered.
Aaron Austin had merely looked puzzled.
Frodo Canticle had been shaking and was nursing a wounded hand.
Susan Gallus had been holding a spear and looking quite ready to ram it into someone.

Now it was her turn and she was quite hesitant but stepped through the arch anyway.

There was a moment of feeling shifted about before she was standing in a room with three exits. A blue door, a green door, and a red door.

Hermione considered what she'd overheard from those who had gone before. Red was combat in each case. If she wanted to fight something, that was the route. Things had differed wildly but the beginnings of a pattern had emerged. Susan had faced skeletons that came to life, holding spears and shields and badmouthing her choice of clothing and hairstyle. Clarence had faced dog-like creatures that breathed flames. Derrick had fought his way through a nest of serpents who had attacked him with various criticisms and venomous comments until he got closer and then just flat out attacked him.

According to Aaron, he'd gone with the green and been faced with a floor puzzle involving teleporting tiles and a bottomless pit.

Frodo had faced a mirror and gotten into a tussle over a ring and some foul little creature who'd challenged him to riddles.

Hermione opened the green door and looked through the opening. There was one of those picture-puzzles composed of sliding tiles against the wall. "That's it?"

Hermione sagged with relief. "That's easy."

"Difficulty Level raised to Hard," said a voice from everywhere at once.

Hermione froze, raising her head to look at the tile puzzle again. It HAD been nine pieces of tile in a frame. It was now nineteen pieces of tile. "Oh."

Hermione closed the green door, went to the blue door, and slowly opened it to peek beyond it.

"You coming in or not? We don't have all day you know."

There was a minotaur in a gladiator costume, a sort-of-penguin, and a goblin wearing a nurse's uniform. They were apparently playing poker. The door closed behind her before she realized she'd stepped into the room out of immediate obedience to an apparent authority figure.

"Kinda surprised," said the goblin, glancing up at her. "You look more the studious type to me."

"Human types all mostly look alike to me," grumbled the minotaur. "Ah well."

"I work with humans a bit more than you," said the goblin. "This one looks about ready to wet herself."

"Surprised myself," said the whatever-it-was in the penguin costume. "She reset the difficulty to Hard of her own free will. Doesn't look that tough to me."

The minotaur snorted. "Wizard ain't she? They can be tougher than they look. I'll grab me axe."

"Eep," said the nine year old girl, who most definitely did not think she was up to fighting a minotaur.

"So," said the minotaur, lifting up a guitar. "I challenge thee! Dig this!"

Hermione blinked as the minotaur began shredding the guitar, and not in the fashion of wood chips and broken strings.

"HAH!" said the minotaur. "Beat that, child!"

Silence.

The goblin got up and waved a hand in front of Hermione's face. "Did you break her?"

"W-w-w-w-WHAT?!" managed Hermione.

"Come on, kid, grab an instrument," said the goblin, pointing at a box. "You gonna even try?"

Hermione looked at the musical instruments in the box, then back at the three. "WHAT?!"

* break *

"So, House Perseus huh?" asked one of her neighbors. "What weapon did you use?"

"Bagpipes," mumbled Hermione.

"Whoa, you must be a lot more badass than you look," said the neighbor. "I used a sword. Dallas Thorne, from Texas. I coulda gone to Ilvermorny but that's two years off and I was anxious to get outta home and start practicing magic."

"'Sword'?" asked Hermione, still a bit in shock. Well, maybe more than just 'a bit' actually.

"Yeah, wooden one, but still," said Dallas. "Had some problem. Never even heard of 'prinnies' before - didn't realize they blew up if you threw 'em either."

"Right," mumbled Hermione.

"So, we're basically the jocks of the magic world," said Dallas, munching on one of his fries. "Thales is the nerds. Paracelsus is healers and fixers, while Heph is the greasers and tech-heads."

Hermione's head thumped on the table.

"So, did you check your schedule?" asked Dallas. "Looks like PE first thing."

Hermione's head came up slightly, then thunked down again.

"Dallas and Hermione, right?" asked the someone on Hermione's other side. "Denise Richards. Pungo in Virginia, magical community from way back."

"Lee Jefferson, call me 'Lee' - Jamaica."

"You don't sound Jamaican."

"Not everyone likes or does the accent," said Lee. "If I get really pissed or something though - it comes out."

"Hermione? Why are you beating your head against the table?"

* break *"
"Very well, all of you will be choosing a weapon to specialize in."

"Conner. A classic choice - swords are always appropriate."

"Lee. Also a good choice. The spear is a versatile weapon for a number of environments."

"Dallas. Firearms are normally not a good choice for heroes, being restricted in a number of areas and thought of poorly within the wizarding community abroad. On the other hand, if you're facing a monster at a distance - they come in DAMN handy."

"Denise - bows are also good for monster hunting, but you might want to specialize in a melee weapon. You too, Dallas. Neither bows nor guns are usually allowed in duels and the like. There'll be a time for ranged weapon training."

"Hermione... you haven't chosen a weapon?"

"Well, you see, I..."

"EXCELLENT," said the instructor. "I was wondering if anyone was going to go that route. Brilliant choice. Everyone - you see what Miss Granger is trying to point out is that the drawback of a weapon is that it can be taken away from you and she wants to specialize in UNARMED combat."

"Eh?"

"Cool," said Dallas, nudging the girl. "Hidden depths, eh?"

"EH?"

"What style do you want to learn, Miss Granger? Gentle Fist? Turtle? Wild Tiger? Mystic Palm?"

"Ah, 'Mystic'?"

"Mystic Palm it is. We've got an individual instructor for you as it's quite intensive."

"EH?!"

"Lopsy, take Miss Granger to where she'll be training. The rest of you, Miss Granger has set the bar high as she will be training much harder than you lot. If she survives, we'll certainly be watching how high she climbs."

"WHAT?!"

* break *

There was a soft thud.

Lee checked the time. "Eight o'clock, right on time."

Denise picked her house-mate off the floor and partially supported her as they made their way towards the bunks. "Dang girl, you putting on weight."

"Urg," said Hermione.

"Don't mention it," said Denise cheerfully. "I know it's all muscle on you, and you're gonna be a knockout when you gets older."

"Uhn," managed Hermione.

"Don't forget there's a test in two months," said Denise. "I hear it's a practical."

"Uhn."

"Girl of few words, I can respect that," said Denise. "Must say, first met you - thought you was a bookworm."

Hermione whimpered.

"Oh, and someone was asking about you. Guy over in Hephaestus. Harry Potter."

Hermione slowly turned a mostly-unfocused look towards her dorm-mate.

"Does a lot of runework," said Denise. "Has a knack for it I understand. Guy's got a scar that looks like 'sowilo' on his forehead so I can understand that kinda sorta."

* break *

Harry Potter had always found something satisfying in working with his hands. Once he was no longer cooking for a family that despised him, he actually enjoyed just puttering around the kitchen.

The common room of Hephaestus House had a kitchen. Because Hephaestus House. Because they were all about MAKING stuff.

Runes, Enchanting, Charms, Spell Creation, Arithmancy - these were just the obvious magical studies. There were also studies on Metallurgy, Materials Science, Chemistry, Transfiguration, and other things. Hephaestus shared two classes with Perseus (English and Charms), another two with Thales (World History and Physical Education), and one with Paracelsus (Wizarding Society).

Harry had seen the usually exhausted-looking girl who'd come partially-alive in Charms and managed to do well in English despite frequently falling asleep. She had even answered questions while asleep!

Harry had also been listening about how this young and fragile-looking girl was apparently dedicated to being a hero to the extent that she was going to special extra classes to learn some super-secret martial arts.

So, she might look like a young waif with bushy hair and an overbite - but she was some badass-in-training.

"You wanted to see me?" asked the girl in question when the arranged meeting finally took place in the Hephaestus Common Room.

"Yeah, that practical we have in another month," said Harry Potter, flipping a crepe into the air and then sliding it onto a plate. "You know we're gonna be set up in teams, right?"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Teams?" asked Harry.

"Well, uhm, of course," said Hermione, trying to cover that she'd missed that.

"Right, so it's inter-House. Dungeon crawl from the sound of it," said Harry.

"A 'dungeon crawl'?" asked Hermione.

"So busy training you missed that?" asked Harry, putting some chocolate filling into the crepe and handing the treat off to her.

"Ah, yes?" answered Hermione.

"Anyway, if you join up, I worked on these," said Harry, holding up some gloves. "Had to guess on your size. Dragonhide outer layer, calfskin interior. Should protect your hands when you punch out trolls and the like."

"...right," said Hermione, taking them and blushing a bit as she hadn't ever gotten a present from a boy before.

"Also this," said Harry, holding up something that looked almost like a single chopstick with a tassel. "Did the runework on that myself. Got a piercing charm on the tip, a runeset to control your hair a bit, and a line of silver inset there to the side. Just in case of werewolves or anything."

"'control my hair'?" asked Hermione.

"Well, you being a get-in and melee type, figured it'd be handy. The commands are 'braid' or 'bun' since those are styles I've seen some of the warrior-types use them. Tap it with your wand to activate it."

* break *

Hermione stared in the mirror. There was her unmanageable unruly out-of-control hair. Said hair wrapped up in a tight bun except for two errant curly strands.

"Something left for the 'mark two' - I hear that's how those guys operate," said Denise appreciatively.

"We're NINE," protested Hermione.

"Not too early to start thinking about the future," said Denise. "And you know those Hephaestus guys have to be good with their hands."

"I'm more interested in this 'practical exam' right now. What have YOU heard?" asked Hermione.

"Hmmm. Teams of four. Inter-house groups are okay, but actually I think we're supposed to go with groups across the House system - they just never come out and say it." Denise pondered a bit. "Of course, some of us are ignoring that and going with a mostly one-House group. I'm already going with Lee and Dallas and Conner. Conner's gonna tank, Lee and Dallas will be getting into the melee, and I'll used ranged weaponry. Mainly that shortbow I've got. Hey, think you can get your boyfriend to toss some runes on it?"

"We've talked ONCE and I think he was just wanting a fighter for his test," protested Hermione.

* break *

"The Mystic Palm is a specialized martial arts style that uses magic as part of its attacks and defenses," said Ironwood, the sensei she'd drawn. "You've gotten the basics of the Reinforce spell down. That's no big deal though as EVERYONE will be using it on their weapons that has such. In weapons it serves to make the weapon hit harder or cut better - but it also serves a protection against transfiguration or destruction magic directed against the weapon. Otherwise some wizard would just turn all your weapons into feathers and then crush you. It's trickier with the version you're using because what you're reinforcing is your own body."

Hermione finished gasping for breath and slowly pulled herself upright.

"By flowing the magic within you, you can make yourself as hard as steel or fast or both," said Ironwood. "Ooooh. Are those new gloves? Let your sensei see them."

Ironwood took the gloves and inspected them. "Beginner's work, but decent quality. Dragonskin leather - reinforced at all the right spots too. Probably last you a year and then you'll need to get the next size up. Oh-hoh! What's this!"

"Eh?" asked Hermione.

"A throwing dart sealed in the back of the hand. A secret weapon is usually a good thing to have," said Ironwood. "Nice choice. Planning for the practical next month?"

"Uh, yes, sensei," said Hermione.

"Good. Plans may not survive the battle, but going in without a plan is planning to fail," said Ironwood. Whose name was Horatio Ironwood, but pretty much insisted on being called either Ironwood or Professor during working hours.

"But..."

"No. Though I do commend who figured out that part of the designs of the practical exams was inter-House unity."

"What about..."

"No. You might consider telling Mister Potter enough about your martial arts training to incorporate that in the next design. Retracting claws are fairly useless unless you're opening packages or something."

"I... claws?" asked Hermione.

"Oh and the hairstick is a nice choice. See he's put some practical styles on there, good."

"Wait. How did you know that Harry Potter was the one..." Hermione drew the hairstick and examined it. Of course her hair, suddenly free of the magic holding it in place, immediately poofed out and covered her face.

"Oh, this is a maker's rune here," said Ironwood, pointing to a set of markings at the velcro wrist strap. "Uses the Korean lettering for a phonetic version of 'Potter' and he's the only Potter here taking advanced runework. Also knows some martial arts out of Tibet I think - you might spar with him sometime."

"You DO realize that I hate exercise, right?"

"That just means you haven't had enough of it," answered Ironwood. He gestured and the two of them appeared on a moonlit forest path.

"I have a bad feeling about this," commented Hermione.

"Good instincts," said Ironwood. "Watch out for the wolves."

"What..." Hermione didn't finish that question as she started running.

The wolves were on her heels a moment later.

Ironwood sighed as Hermione passed him a moment later. "You should have met my grandfather. He would have tied raw meat to me, then had me dragging a tractor tire by a chain before releasing any wolves. You kids have it SO easy nowadays."

"The kid smells exhausted," said one of the wolves, tarrying a bit.

"Meh," said Ironwood. "So I'm an old softie. She's a wizard, just wait till she figures out how to protect herself better. I'll have to hire trolls or something."

* break *

"Okay," said Harry, sitting down across from Hermione. "I've got..."

Hermione's head thumped down into her baked potato.

Harry paused a moment before reaching over, lifting the girl's head up, and moving the plate to the side before letting her head back down.

"Yeah, pretty much exhausted," said Denise. "She's got too much pride in her academics to slack, and now she just wants to prove herself in front of Old Man Ironwood."

"Wow," said Harry. "You know if she had any problems with the hairstick or the gloves?"

"Not that she's mentioned," said Denise. "Why?"

"Making a pair of armored bracers," said Harry. "Ran across some neat rune schema."

"Ah, she'll appreciate that," said Denise. "How's your team coming?"

"If she isn't too worn out, there's Hermione from Perseus," said Harry, "me from Hephaestus. Su Li from Thales. Susan Abbott from Paracelsus."

"One from each?" asked Denise.

"What about you?" asked Harry.

"All Perseus team. If we get combat, we'll have a mix of ranged and in-close combat plus spellcasting." Denise grinned. "Don't forget - we've got these training wands for a reason."

"Yeah, but all the interesting spells are for more advanced classes and they're talking about making Atlantis a Prep School because they're having trouble with the international accredation," said Harry.

"Yeah, that'll suck if it happens," said Denise. "Ilvermorny is okay, but it doesn't have all these options."

* break *

Harry bowed towards his opponent, never taking his eyes off her.

Hermione bowed back.

"Begin!"

Harry was under no preconceptions here regarding his opponent - well at least he wasn't going to take her lightly for being smaller and thinner and of the female persuasion. Master Gong back in Shangri-La had been quite petite compared to many of the other instructors there and had been described as a WHITE HOT BALL OF TERROR AND VIOLENCE by just about everyone.

Hermione didn't have the benefits of the enchantments he'd made for her, stating that it was hardly fair to use them in a battle against the person who'd made them for her in the first place. Or she'd privately decided he'd have a way of using them against her and just hadn't mentioned that consideration aloud.

Whatever the case, he quickly discovered that if you tried blocking her strikes - your entire arm went numb and sort of useless.

"Harry Potter has been disabled. Back to your sides."

As soon as he could move again, they went to round two. Harry quickly began deflecting attacks instead of trying to block.

The differences in styles were apparent from the beginning. Harry's movements were more angular, Hermione's more circular.

"You are stronger than you look," said Hermione after they'd exchanged strikes and then mutually retreated.

"You are, as well," responded Harry. "Training seals?"

Hermione nodded. "Level three. You?"

"Level two," responded Harry. "An hour each day. Can't imagine even trying level three yet."

"Level three for an hour, level one for the rest of the day," said Hermione.

"Ah, I see," said Harry with a nod.

In a flash, Hermione had charged Harry, who went airborne immediately.

"What? FLIGHT?" asked Hermione, who did not have a ranged attack handy.

Harry hung in the air, slowing drifting with the air current. "Haven't managed flight actually. Decreased force of gravity allows me to float - that's it. Hoping to get flight down by the end of the year though."

"If you can manage that as an enchant, I want it. 'Not all fights can be won, always have an escape route.'"

Harry smirked back. "Sounds like something I've heard a few sensei say."

"Well then," said Hermione, drawing her training wand.

"I thought this was martial arts only," protested Harry.

"Nobody stated that rule," pointed out the referee.

"Oh bugger," said Harry, pulling out an odd gun with what looked like a radar dish at the front end.

"Nobody said anything about weapons," protested Hermione.

"Nobody stated that rule," pointed out the referee.

"Oh bugger," said Hermione.

(VORP!) went the raygun.

(DODGE!) went Hermione.

(VORP!) went the raygun again.

"Oh this isn't good," protested the four-inch-tall Hermione. "My voice? I sound like a chipmunk!"

"I was trying to come up with a nonlethal attack to use, was aiming for a stun blast, somehow ended up with a shrink ray," explained Harry.

Hermione crossed her arms and glared up at the floating Harry. "How long does it last?"

"About an hour," said Harry.

"Hmph. Well, I've got to revise for next week's test. I'm counting on you to do the right thing here, Potter!"

"Wait. What?" asked Harry.

"Take responsibility for yourself, Harry Potter!" said Hermione. "You put me in this condition. Why are you snickering like that, Denise?"

"Uhm," said Harry.

"I don't get it," said Hermione, still in convenient pocket size. "Anyway, Potter. You better take care of me. Stop laughing, Denise!"

"Uhm, right," said Harry, thinking that all sounded a bit strange but not really wanting to analyze it.

"Hmph," hmphed Hermione. Still, she realized she wasn't helpless. If she could reach someone, she could use her fighting techniques to disable them no matter what size she was. Also, she still had her training wand.

* break *

"Okay," said Harry. "One of those weird puzzles. Need to get across in one trip. Two of us. As soon as we step off a panel, it vanishes."

"Sorry, if I hadn't tripped," said Susan Abbott, finishing her statement by waving at a swath of tiles that were currently not there.

"You have your shrink ray?" asked Hermione.

"What?" asked Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your shrink ray. You shrink me and Su down, we get in those pouches on your ammo belt. You then jump across. Obvious really."

"Except that leaves both of you shrunk for an hour," pointed out Harry.

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Got any rocket boots?"

"Unfortunately, my experiment with that ended rather explosively," hesitantly answered Harry.

"Flight belt?" asked Hermione.

"Working on it, still has problems," said Harry. "And it'll be a ring."

"You shouldn't make it a ring, too obvious. Everyone expects a magic ring," said Hermione. "Then someone will hit it with a Finite."

* Much much much later *

"So," said Ernie MacMillan. "Beauxbatons used a carriage drawn by pegasi. Durmstrang used a sailing ship that popped up out of the Black Lake. What do you suppose Atlantis will use?"

Cedric blinked. "You think they'll use something flashy? That school seems to be more practical than that."

"Nah," said Ernie. "These other schools coulda just used a portkey. Woulda been cheaper too. They got to do flashy. Especially 'cause they're trying to establish themselves as a valid school here."

"Point," said Cedric, spotting something.

A blue box appeared with a grind-thump noise. None of the wizards or witches were terribly surprised to find the interior was bigger than the outside. What DID surprise them were all the muggleborns or muggle-raised that cheered when the thing appeared. And why exactly did it say "Police" on the outside?

"So, which do you think will be next?" asked Ernie. He started counting them off on his fingers as he named the schools. "Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Atlantis - that leaves Ilvermorny and Oogadoo."

"That's 'Uagadou'," corrected Cedric.

"Uggaduuo," tried Ernie.

"Go with the Colonies and Africa," suggested Cedric.

"The Uagadou are already here," said Luna Lovegood, pointing.

"Where?" asked Ernie.

"Ah, the birds," said Cedric after looking himself. "Good eye."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ernie.

"The Uagadou are known for their skill in self-transfiguration and wandless magic," said Cedric. "If these are supposed to be among the best - of course they'd all be animagi."

"What?" asked Ernie.

"Wizards who can take an animal form," said Cedric.

"You seem to know a lot about them," noted Luna.

"Once I found they were coming, I read up a bit on the various schools," said Cedric.

"Then that leaves Ilvermorny," said Ernie as the various birds began transforming into dark-skinned wizards and walking forward.

"I expect they'll be flashy," said Cedric. "Hollywood."

"Yeah," said Ernie.

"Like that," said Cedric.

"A gemstone javelin slamming into the earth, unfolding into a circular gateway, which has various runes lighting up in some sort of countdown, which then goes whoosh with a burst of energy?" Ernie nodded after the thing had run its course. "Yeah. Way too Hollywood."

"A marching band?" asked Cedric as the band came marching out to form two lines framing the circle. "Tacky."

"I dunno. That girl with the trombone is rather cute," said Ernie.

"The blonde one or the brunette?" asked Luna.

"Shouldn't you be over with the Ravenclaws?" asked Ernie.

* break *

The goblet roared up in flames and spat out a name.

"From Beauxbatons: Fleur Delacour!"

"From Durmstrang: Viktor Krum!"

"Representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Cedric Diggory!"

"From Uagadou: George Bokamoso!"

"Ilvermorny's champion - Hecate Jones."

"Atlantis will be represented by... this can't be right. He's not old enough."

"Who?"

"Says Harry Potter, but he's not even here. Didn't come along on the trip because he's doing some work with advanced runes."

"Can't be THAT 'Harry Potter' can it?"

"This looks like it was ripped off the front of an envelope and someone just scribbled the name of the school down underneath. That can't be considered valid, right?"

* break *

Harry discovered one thing right off. He did not like being a celebrity. He might have sort have liked it, if all the attention he'd ever gotten was negative and being thrown in a cupboard. With him having friends and a place to be in the world like he had found - it was rather jarring when he'd realized that all the attention was for surviving and stopping a war at one year of age. So he was the Boy-Who-Lived and the Atlantis Champion.

The ones who had come with the intention of being picked had been pretty pissed off too. Then they'd gotten together in some sort of school solidarity thing.

The main thing he found he didn't like about the whole celebrity thing was that people were not seeing him. Back at school, he'd been a good student and a quick study and runes just seemed to come naturally to him. Death, on one of his infrequent visits, had said that it was only natural as he had a rune stuck on his forehead. Harry wasn't entirely sure that the Incarnation of Death hadn't done something there. In any case - back at school if he had any fame to his name it was because of that skill in runes and enchanting. His memory might not be as good as Hermione's - but he was at least as clever when he had a goal to work towards.

He looked over the older Champions.

Fleur Delacour, blonde and pretty, but kept flashing something that caused his Charm Bracelet to tingle a bit. Maybe some kind of accidental magic or something? Seemed a bit aloof and, well, snooty. Though she was shivering a bit too.

Cedric Diggory was a tall, square-jawed, fellow. Preoccupied with something or other. Probably had some warming charm on his clothing, cause this castle was DAMN drafty.

Viktor Krum was some sort of quidditch star. Quidditch wasn't really that big a deal back at Harry's school, being as they were located under thousands of feet of water and all. Have to talk to the guy at some point - sounded like a cool game even if some of the rules sounded kind of gonzo.

George Bokamoso was a dark and serious fellow who had his back to one wall and was studying each of them with the sort of unblinking look that made you feel as if he were looking THROUGH you.

Which brought him to the petite Eurasian-looking girl named Hecate Jones.

"Potter! Haven't seen you since first year. Looking well," said Hecate, holding out one hand.

"Miss Jones. I'm afraid I don't remember..." began Harry, shaking her hand anyway.

"We were taking Basic Potioning 101 together, I was at the station behind you," said Hecate.

"The one who melted the sink?" asked Harry.

"Ah, yeah," agreed Hecate. "I transferred out at the end of the year for home schooling and quidditch. Hard to believe that quidditch is that important, but apparently it is."

"Really? I'll have to try and see a game sometime," said Harry. "It sounds fun."

"You've never seen quidditch?!" asked Cedric.

"Zat is terrible!" declared Viktor.

"Flight class is fun, and you do quidditch on brooms, right?" asked Harry.

Open gaping from two of the Champions, apparently unable to parse that someone established in the wizarding world could be ignorant of the sport.

"Yeah, Atlantis has contained areas where you can work on flight manueverability and avoidance skills, but no outdoor areas where you can set up a quidditch pitch," explained Hecate.

* break *

"Dragons, just great." Harry shook his head. "Let's see."

Harry tapped his glasses a couple of times, bringing up the telescopic function to better study the clutch of eggs. Tapping three more times to cancel that and bring up the [Mirror Shades] function because it was a bit bright today.

"Okay, then," said Harry. He'd been allowed his glasses but because of some archaic laws he'd been disallowed his usual allotment of charms and enchantments. Which, considering that his specialty was enchanting various objects, was quite a handicap for him.

"HARRY!" yelled Hermione from the stands. "Don't forget the plan!"

"Hadn't," mumbled Harry. "Accio Scythe!" When nothing answered his attempted spell, he changed targets by pointing his hand in a slightly different direction. "Accio broom!"

This time a broom appeared, but it was hardly the usual broom seen about the castle. There were bands of darker-looking metal circling the wood of the broomstick, long feathers in amongst the twigs, and the handles in front had wing-like extensions.

"What a ratty-looking broom!" exclaimed some boy in the stands.

Quickly mounting his broom, Harry lifted off. "Comet Trail."

Leaving behind a yellow-white trail of light behind him, handy for certain broom games they'd worked out back in Atlantis such as the Maze Chase, Harry darted up and observed how the dragon's attention was entirely on him. "Mirror Image." Three Harry Potter were now diving and wheeling and leaving criss-crossing trails behind them.

Harry did that a few times, zipping around the field and then raising his wand again mid-swoop. "Tamaya!"

Fireworks blossomed around him, including a long serpentine form that raced around the field, drawing snaps and bites from the dragon.

During all this, Harry swooped down, grabbed one egg, and was out again while the Hungarian Horntail guarding the nest was snapping at an illusion-Harry and the fireworks-dragon.

"If you can't baffle them with brilliance, confound them with chaos," said someone in the stands. "Hah!"

The dragon calmed down as the fireworks faded out and the two illusion-Harrys disappeared.

"Harry Potter of the Atlantean school has his egg inside the time limit," announced Bagman. "Now for the scores."

Three "five" scores floated up, joined by one "two" and a pair of "six" scores.

* break *

"Excuse me," said Hermione. "You're blocking the door."

"Oh, did you hear that," said the blond boy, glancing at his two friends. "The MUDBLOOD wants to get by."

"I would rather you not use such a term," said the shorter girl, glaring up at him.

"Why? What are you going to do about it, MUDBLOOD?" asked the boy.

One hand sped out, somewhat faster than a bludger and with considerably more aim. There was a light tap on the boy's throat.

The boy blinked for a moment, sneered, and began making mouth-motions as if he was talking. Except that there was no actual sound involved.

"Special Technique: Silence Is Golden," said Hermione. "Do you want to see a technique that will shut off your ability to ever have children?"

The boy made a couple more attempts to speak and then moved out of the way.

"Thank you," said Hermione, pushing past him. "Your voice will return in about five minutes. I didn't use the permanent version that would explode your voicebox. Be grateful."

* break *

Okay, thought Draco Malfoy. The witch, even though she was apparently a mudblood according to Tracey, had wandless magic down to such an extent she could use a "Silencio" charm without the words or wand. She might not be able to do it at range or be able to do something really destructive, but he didn't want to test such things himself.

Also noteworthy was that she was a crazy violent witch. His mother came from the Black family, notable for such witches in their lineage, and some of the family history there indicated that messing with such could be all sorts of painful and humiliating.

Altogether, it meant going after safer targets until he could arrange someone expendable trying to test the little psychopath and see how much was bluff.

* break *

Albus Dumbledore wasn't quite sure what to make of the enigma that was Harry Potter.

He'd attempted to get Harry from Atlantis on three attempts, then adopted a wait-and-see attitude to determine if perhaps the "power the Dark Lord knows not" was something he'd picked up overseas. Albus had been pretty sure that power was "love" but he was not some teenage witch who believed in "love conquers all" or similar things. It was an old magic with a fair amount of power and intent behind it - but hardly omnipotent of itself.

Harry had just demonstrated on the completion of the First Task some of the skills he'd developed at that other school. "Tamaya" was a Japanese fireworks spell, one that often produced fanciful shapes that would fade within a minute or so. "Mirror Image" was another spell he'd heard of, Australian if he recalled correctly. A wizard could quickly tell which of the images was real, or could dispel the images by means of a wide-area spell like "Bombarda" or similar things.

The tricky broom flying and the enhancements on it were more telling. That was a custom-made broom, not a mass produced sort at all.

A few comments from Harry to that little friend of his where a portrait could overhear further confirmed his guess. Harry had made the broom himself, looking at various things produced elsewhere and had made a broom that wasn't quite up to snuff with the Cleansweeps in the sorts of things that quidditch brooms were made for. No - that particular broom was built to be the most manueverable thing in the air and even had some sort of charms to deal with something he wasn't familiar with that was referred to by the code-term "G-Force" that was no doubt encountered at that school of theirs.

Well, judging from how he and the little muggleborn hung around each other - he at least knew where he could find a hostage for the Second Test.

* break *

"Weird, it makes a lot of noise..." said Cedric.

"It's Mermish," said Harry.

"Pardon?" asked Fleur.

"Mermish, try putting it in water," said Harry.

"What makes you think..." Viktor began.

"Hey, where is my school located? Twenty thousand leagues under the sea, right?" asked Harry. "I've heard Mermish. This is what it sounds like outside the water."

"That bad? It is just screeching," pointed out Viktor.

"You think that's bad, you should hear their opera," said Harry.

"So why are you helping us instead of keeping the secret for yourself?" asked Cedric.

"International cooperation?" tried Harry. He shrugged. "Honestly, I could care less about winning this thing. Main thing I'm out to do is prove that Atlantis is a valid school. As long as I place well - I'm doing that. Besides, one of the older years was pointing out that if we're all really close at the end - that'll generate more interest in the whole thing. As long as nobody does anything stupid in designing the Second or Third Task."

"So you're saying to submerge the eggs?" asked Cedric.

"That's what I'll do," said Harry. "Hang on, I'm not really good at water-manipulation spells. Hermione's much better at that sort of thing. Oh, there's Su Li. She's really good at transfigurating stuff."

The slim Chinese girl listened and came up with the simplest solution.

* break *

"Zat water is way too cold," said a shivering Fleur.

"The Black Lake in winter is not a good place to be," agreed Cedric.`

"Pah, this is nothing," said Viktor. "In Durmstrang, we have to take swim in much colder water first thing in morning!"

"No doubt with weights tied to you?" asked Cedric.

"Dah! You are familiar with Durstrang physical fitness?" asked Viktor.

"Lucky guess," said Cedric.

"What do you suppose clue means?" asked Fleur.

"Uhm, I'm not a Champion, but I'm from House Thales of Atlantis School. We do riddles," said Su Li. "As a guess - you're going to need to swim to the bottom of the Black Lake. You're going to need Warming Charms and a method of breathing underwater."

"Mermen guarding what we hold dear?" asked Cedric. "Any idea?"

"Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground, And while you're searching, ponder this; We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And recover what we took,
But past an hour the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
"Hope they don't take anything too important," said Harry. "If something happens and you can't complete it - you might have to negotiate with the local merfolk for its return. They can be as stingy as goblins and once something's theirs - they'll be inclined to keep it."

"Vell," said Viktor, "you are from Atlantis, so I expect you know such thing."

"Yeah, I've met some. Some look really human-like, but those tend to be the tropical varieties. I wouldn't expect the locals to be too close to human appearance and it's one of those cases where the more human they look the more human they act. There's a couple of deep sea-tribes you don't want to interact with."

"R'yleh," supplied Su Li.

"Did it just get colder?" complained Fleur.

"Don't pay attention to her," said Harry with an eye roll added in for good measure.

"It's not just fiction! I know it!" declared Su Li. "He just changed the names - they're Wrackspurts!"

"Getting back to the clue," said Harry.

"Please," said Viktor.

"Merfolk are generally less greedy than goblins, but that's like saying a bonfire is less hot than fiendfyre. Won't keep you from getting burned," said Harry. "I think Hermione knows someone who has some Mermish relatives. Might be able to use as an intermediary if anyone can't recover whatever they're going to claim."

"You in zis Atlantis school have no problem wiz such?" asked Fleur.

"No, why would we?" asked Harry.

* break *

Albus Dumbledore, He-Of-Many-Names, was a bit flabbergasted. This did not happen very often, but it was usually nice when it DID happen because at his advanced age something completely unexpected was welcome. Most of the time.

Draco Malfoy was smirking behind his father. Expected.

Lucius Malfoy was standing confident. Expected.

Harry Potter was looking like he was waiting for a punchline. Not expected.

Hermione Granger, the muggleborn who was one of five young ladies who seemed to associate themselves with young Mister Potter, was backing away with a look of panic on her face. Which was completely out-of-character for her based on his observations thus far.

"So," said Harry. "You've been saying 'wait till my father hears about this' so often it became your catchphrase - and the moment he shows up its been to throw veiled comments on MY parentage?"

"Oh, come now, everyone knows how far the Potter line has fallen - and associating with mud," said Lucius Malfoy, his eyes flicking briefly towards Hermione, "well - you really don't have anyone to teach you proper behavior anyway do you?"

Harry bit his thumb, then clapped his hands together. "Only fair if you bring your father into this, that I bring mine - right?"

"Your family's dead, Potter..." Lucius Malfoy's voice trailed off as the temperature around the Black Lake shot further down and the clouds seemed to become even darker and more oppressive.

"I was adopted," said Harry. "Draco's father, meet my father."

He was suddenly there as if he had always been there. Skeletal figure in hooded robes, a bone-white scythe with gleaming blade held almost as if it was simply an oversized walking stick.

The figure spoke, and though it was not much more than a whisper it seemed as if the world quieted around each syllable to make it a shout instead. "HELLO, LUCIUS MALFOY. DO WE HAVE A PROBLEM?"

Albus Dumbledore realized he'd pulled his wand, and slowly put it away as he considered how much good the Elder Wand would do against its creator. It MIGHT be effective.

"I REALLY DON'T LIKE THE WHOLE 'DEATH EATER' THING," said Death. "HONESTLY, COULDN'T YOUR MASTER COME UP WITH A BETTER NAME?"

"Uhm," said Lucius.

"SERIOUSLY, I KNOW MORTALS HAVE A TENDENCY TO INSERT SEX INTO NEARLY EVERYTHING, BUT GROUPS ARE SO MUCH TROUBLE."

"Urk," said Lucius.

"NOW, LET'S HAVE A BIT OF CHAT, SHALL WE?" Death laid a comradely (if bony) hand on Lucius' shoulder and the two vanished.

"Draco, did you just arrange for your father to have a 'date with Death'? Talk about ambition!" said Blaise Zabini. "How very Slytherin. Really, I'm surprised."

Draco was several shades paler than was his usual.

Lucius Malfoy reappeared a few minutes later, pale and shaking and absolutely not wanting to talk about it.

* break *

The hand-signals given in the Great Hall were obvious, their meaning less so.

That the Champions quickly gathered was quite obvious. That several of them were worried and two were quite pissed was also quite obvious.

"Hermione's missing," said Harry.

"Cho's missing," said Cedric.

Hecate looked more worried than pissed. "My associate, Circe Allister, is missing."

"I was expecting them to take my Enchanting supplies or maybe that broomstick I've been working on," confessed Harry. "Taking hostages? Not something I expected."

Viktor shrugged. "It is not too unexpected. Magical world very dangerous. Durmstrang reflect that in everyday attitudes."

"Hostages?" asked Fleur, looking at where the Beauxbatons students were gathered. "I do not think anyone present is missing and few of them I would even care. Most of zem dislike me, and no one is close."

"Sound a bit like Durmstrang," admitted Viktor. "More likely have alliances than friends, yes?"

"Oui," agreed Fleur. "Or non-hostility agreement."

"Dah, very like Durmstrang," said Viktor.

"Wait. Hostages. After an hour..." Harry got pissed. "Won't get them back?!"

"It might just be dramatic effect," said Cedric. "Old wizards and politicians - they love drama."

"Harry, put the gun away," said Hecate.

"Gun? Isn't that a muggle weapon?" asked Cedric, eyeing the odd device. He didn't expect a muggle weapon to have little tubes and cylinders and runes.

"Magic gun," said Hecate. "Something the Atlantis people worked out. I think it was some graduate project in their last year. Like a wand except it throws out overcharged spell effects. Like a blasting charm that takes out the whole wall."

"One of my projects," said Harry, considering the gun before putting it back away in his robes. "So, bottom of the Black Lake. Everyone have a method to survive down there?"

* break *

"You know," said Su Li to her neighbor, pitching her voice loud enough to be overheard, "someone didn't think this out."

"Not exactly unusual, but how so?" asked the Hogwarts teacher.

"The audience is stuck here watching the surface of a lake for an hour," pointed out Su Li. "Not exactly riveting."

"You have a better idea?" asked Professor Sinistra.

"Allowing the Champions to take along an optic," said Su Li, taking a monocle out of her bag. "Whatever the wearer sees ends up projected to an orb which could be set up above the lake so everyone could see. Then someone controlling the thing can switch from one Champion to another when something interesting is going on."

"Interesting," said Professor Sinistra, looking at the monocle. "This is one such?"

"Yeah, some people tried to cheat on exams with this sort of thing a year ago. They had to retake the exams without them, but the Charms professor awarded them a few points for the work," said Su Li.

Abbott, Susan. House Paracelsus. Favorite Class: Potions. Wants to be a dedicated healer, at this point in time at least.

Allister, Circe. House Thunderbird, Ilvermorny. Hecate's minion/associate. A bit clumsy, particularly in charms. Skilled in potions however.

Allonso. Prinny. Janitor. "I'm a janitor, D00d!"

Atlantis School For Magical Studies. Located almost halfway across the Atlantic along the seafloor in a stable area. There are no windows because there is no natural light at this depth, though there are plans for an Oceanography segment where one could visit the Leviathan, the Kraken, and other fascinating denizens of the oceans. They had a half-dozen names planned before settling on this one, and the accredation battle happens offscreen but is referenced. If they succeed, then Hermione and Harry would be visiting Hogwarts for the first time in the Hexawizard (formerly Triwizard) Tournament. If they fail to get full accredation in the wizarding community, then Harry and Hermione would go from Atlantis to Hogwarts (starting their third year of magical education in Hogwarts' first year.)

Austin, Aaron. House Thales. Tends to get preoccupied with various things and wander around in a daze. Favorite Class: Enchanting.

Canticle, Frodo. House Paracelsus. Failed to keep grades up and was sent off in the second year.

Clearwater, Clarence. House Hephaestus. Clumsy. Unrelated to the Clearwaters in Britain, is actually from Portugal. Favorite Class: Herbology. Has an unfortunate tendency to blow things up.

Death, aka Thanatos, aka Threshold, aka the Final Grin, etc. An Incarnate Of Reality. A bit over 13 billion years old. Fond of cats. Has a sense of humor but admits it is a weird sense of humor. As an Incarnate of a Fundamental Concept, is capable of being Omnipresent. Plays a terribly complicated card game with various other Incarnates.

Franks, Derrick. House Perseus. Swordsman, favoring a claymore. Especially large student from Atlanta's literally underground magical community. Favorite Class: Physical Education. Wants quidditch to come to the school.

Gallus, Susan. House Perseus. Spear-wielder. Favorite Class: Transfiguration. Develops a multi-spear throwing spell in her second year which she upgrades every year.

Granger, Hermione. House Perseus. Practitioner of Mystical Palm martial arts. Wanted to join Thales and applies for resorting in second year except for the Prep School plotline - which has them return to Hogwarts if that option was taken.

Grunch. Minotaur. Security Guard. Fond of licorice.

Ironwood, Horatio. Hopi, Hermione's sensei. Teaches Mystic Palm style martial arts which is loosely based on the Gentle Fist style (Hyuga clan style from Naruto) with bits of Hokuto No Ken's Hokuto Shinken mixed in. A devastating style that allows the practitioner to force magical energy into the target at specific points for odd effects. 97 years old. Also teaches Agricultural Studies.

Jones, Hecate. Thunderbird House, Ilvermorny. A powerful witch with a vicious streak and also a bit of a quidditch fanatic. Hasn't melted a cauldron in Potions in over a year, and is somewhat proud of that improvement. Usually has her friend Circe Allister work on potions when she needs one.

Kent, Conner. As this is 1991 - nobody is linking him to the DC Comics character of the same name. Same general build and heroic tendencies. House Perseus swordsman, prefers a gladius. Pursuing Denise Richards in fourth grade.

Killpenny. Goblin. Level 9 Bureaucrat who wields the Sacred Pen Of Kalkaruus. Enjoys muggle video games but laments that you cannot normally select goblin as a class/race option.

Li, Su. House Thales. British girl of Chinese descent who doesn't really speak that much Mandarin. Dislikes British cooking. Muggleborn. Favorite Class: Transfiguration. Is convinced that HP Lovecraft was right.

Life, aka What Happens, etc. An Incarnate Of Reality, the Fundamental Concept and therefore not tied to a single interpretation of anything. Is not terribly concerned with individuals or specific species. Bit of a pragmatist really. Has been known to get quite passionate about various causes and then move on to another cause and forget about the last one.

Madblood, Doctor Phineas. A mad scientist, research sorcerer, and TV celebrity who does comedy sketches around old movies as his schtick. This has the benefit of any slip-up in character to be dismissed as being in-character for his TV role. Does not actually appear in this story, merely referenced.

Murphy, aka Fate, alias That Guy, etc. An Incarnate Of Reality. Fond of slapping down people or things who get uppity. As an Incarnate of Chaos, can be viewed by those aware in just about any YouTube compilation dealing with crashes or Instant Karma. He knows where you live and where all the skeletons are buried.

Potter, Harry. The Boy Who Lived. House Hephaestus. Has no horcrux in his scar, which became the rune 'sowilo' after Death started associating with him. Favorite Class: Runecrafting.

Richards, Denise. House Perseus. Prefers using a bow. Favorite Class: Charms. Starting in fourth year is pursuing a relationship with Conner Kent. Very much into fashion. Hails from the magical community of Pungo in Virginia and follows the career of local magical researcher and TV personality Doctor Madblood.