Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.

I'd just like to thank everyone who has reviewed. I'm very grateful. And here is the promised chapter. With unknown results.

"We're finally into the second rounds," Bellatrix declared. "I would like the first year finalists to come up - Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff, Romilda Vane from Gryffindor, Cho Chang from Ravenclaw and Harry Potter from Slytherin up on the stage please… all four of you."

"Potter, move!" Snape hissed as Harry stood slowly and walked up with the rest of the students.

Cho Chang, the Chinese girl, smiled at him on the way up the stage. He smiled back.

The other two, however, remained stony faced and didn't even so much as acknowledge him.

As they were given different positions on the stage by Bellatrix, Harry found himself at the very right.

His hands were sweating again, his grasp on his wand feeling slippery. It was odd how he never got used to the tension of being in front of so many people. Being the entertainment for so many people.

"Do you all understand your roles?" Bellatrix asked them. "Your job is to fend for yourself while taking the other three out. The last student standing is the first year champion."

All three nodded and Harry found himself nodding with them.

"I feel that it is pointless reviewing the rules again – for I am sure all of you have already memorised them by heart."

They nodded again.

Bellatrix smiled. "Very well, then…" She marched off the stage and stood facing the audience with an air of mysteriousness. "We'll let the duel begin!"

Her last word signalled the start.

Harry felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest. The beats were so fast, thrumming in quick rhythms that Harry began to wonder whether he would suffer a heart attack.

Remembering Snape's instructions only too well, Harry snapped up a shield as quick as he could and eyed the other three vigilantly.

There was no way he was going to let history repeat itself and lose the duel by being careless.

He saw the Gryffindor girl, Romilda Vane, take up her wand tightly in her left hand and shoot two disarming spells at Ernie Macmillan, the blonde haired Hufflepuff boy.

Macmillan backed up as few steps, fending off the spells and returned a few as a form of reprisal. They thumped harmlessly off Romilda Vane's shield.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Cho Chang backing up until she was well out of the fight and watching from a distance. Harry followed her example and did the same.

Why not let the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor battle it until they were tired…and then he would strike?

The Macmillan and Romilda Vane traded a few more spells before Macmillan called for her to stop.

"Wait! Don't, stop! Wait a moment!" he yelled, shield straining against Romilda's ongoing spells.

"You're an idiot if you think I'll fall for that!" the Gryffindor girl snarled.

"No!" Macmillan protested loudly. "You, the Ravenclaw, and I; we should form an alliance and take the Slytherin wretch out first! Then we can turn on each other."

Harry felt as though someone had slipped an ice cube down his robes. He willed the Gryffindor girl to decline; it just wasn't possible to defeat all of them. Three against one.

Harry immediately glanced at Snape. Forming alliances wasn't fair – it tipped the scales so much that the person teamed up on would never stand a chance.

However, Snape's grim expression told him instantly there was nothing in the rules forbidding this act.

Romilda Vane halted for a moment, her eyes glistening. She considered this proposal, and nodded, swiftly. "Agreed. We'll eliminate the Slytherin together, and then I'll deal with you."

Harry bit his lip anxiously. Was this blatant discrimination? Just because he was a Slytherin he was untrustworthy and evil?

He was battered around by the Slytherins because he was too much like a Gryffindor, and he was also picked on by the other houses because he was officially a Slytherin.

How on earth could this possibly be listed down as fair? But then whoever said life was fair?

"You, the Ravenclaw, are you with us?" Ernie Macmillan asked roughly. "If not, we'll wipe you out first."

Blackmail? What an underhanded method.

Harry saw Cho Chang hesitate, debating on whether to follow the option that brought her the most benefit or to play fair. It was obvious she was uncomfortable.

Reluctantly, with a guilty look on her face, she called out, "Fine."

Avoiding Harry's eyes, Cho Chang sent a disarming spell at him. He barely felt its presence before it vanished upon lightly touching his shield.

Cho Chang's move was quickly mirrored by Macmillan and Romilda Vane.

Spells thudded against his shield like raining bullets. The sheer vehemence of it took his breath away. Red sparks, blue sparks, gold sparks, all flew towards him with one purpose – to throw him out of his competition.

The spells were hurled from all directions and one by one, they clashed with his shield before dropping harmlessly down.

Harry's panic ceased slightly. Even the combined powers of all three students could not rival Professor's Snape's curses.

If he endured all Snape's tricks without any slip-ups, then he was sure he would also live through this.

But as the spells continued sailing through the air in a never-ending stream, Harry knew that although he may be able to maintain his position for at least ten minutes, or perhaps even twenty, he would eventually get tired.

Then he would falter. Thus resulting in his elimination.
No, that wasn't acceptable.

He had made it through the first round – but that wasn't good enough – he was determined on making it through the second. And then possibly the third, depending on the circumstances.

Some people would call him overly ambitious. But he thought he had a grasp of the potential of his magic.

Despite Malfoy's close win, Harry could easily have beaten him – easily as the wind would have blown away a leaf. He just knew it. If Malfoy's stance, aim and power had been so pathetic what made these students any better?

He had to drop his defensive stance and get on the offensive. However, the very second he let down his shield, he would be hit by a large variety of spells.

No, this wouldn't do. It was time to unleash some of the more powerful curses Snape taught him.

Harry's teeth gritted together and his muscles tensed. Whether this would work relied entirely on whether he was quick enough.

That was how two things, which seemed to happen in the exact same time, caught the other three students entirely by surprise.

After facing the next volley of spells, Harry made his move. The first thing he did was throwing down his shield.

The other three didn't even have time to be surprised before he dove for the ground.

His sudden interchange took up only two seconds, just swift enough to avoid the next shower of curses aimed at the spot he had stood.

His wand whipped through the air at a speed which it appeared blurred to the human eye and he muttered a spell under his breath. "Vapos!"

They were instantly plunged into black smoke. It was as if inky curtains had swallowed up the light. It gave Harry sufficient time to stand up and prepare himself. He heard angry voices and yells as he waited patiently for the smoke to clear.

The spell was one of those emergency ones Snape had taught him. It had been hard to muster, but it was now worth it.

It set Harry at a temporary advantage. He was familiar with the spell while the others had never seen it before.
He smiled grimly to himself.

The moment the black smoke drifted away to reveal the blurry silhouette of Romilda Vane, he jumped into action, his moves as fluid as water.

Harry brought his wand down in a curving slash, in the movement Snape had pounded into his head. "Alligaveritis!"

The smoky black ropes that had caused Harry so much annoyance back when Snape was teaching him was now under his command and obeying his every whim.

It snaked, without delay, towards Romilda Vane. At the last second, she pushed up a shield. Unfortunately, for her not for Harry, her shield did not even withstand the first lash of the ropes.

Harry could tell she was shocked, just as he had been, when the ropes, instead of disappearing, drew back to gain some thrust and lashed out at the shield again.

They twisted smoothly around her wrist with the grace of real serpents, and jerked her right off the ground, a two metres up into the air.

Romilda Vane's legs flailed.

With his wand, Harry jabbed in Cho Chang's direction. The smoky ropes swung Romilda Vane's body towards Cho Chang with such momentum that the poor Ravenclaw was knocked out cold while Romilda ended up on top of her.

Harry sent a quick stupefy at Romilda. He felt sorry for doing that to Cho Chang. He was sure she would have a killer headache threatening her the moment she woke up again.

As for Romilda… she was just another defeated opponent.

Harry celebrated with a little smirk in Ernie Macmillan's direction. Two down, one more to go.
He was going to enjoy this very much.

"You're very proud, aren't you," Macmillan snarled.

"Very," Harry agreed.

"I just want you to know that I'll –"

Harry felt faintly amused. "We best not dawdle, there are plenty of other people waiting to perform," he interrupted. "Langlock!"

The spell hit Macmillian in the stomach. He doubled over. His mouth opened and closed without any sound coming out.

Harry grinned. "It's a little trick I learned from my instructor," he said.

Macmillan's face twisted into an ugly scowl, and he lifted the offensive finger at Harry. Harry himself didn't particularly care too much. However, for his own amusement, he put in, "You're officially not 'defeated' yet, though I doubt you have any chance now. That means I can torture you if I want."

He made sure he almost matched Snape word for word. He might as well bring Snape a little entertainment as a gesture of thanks. Oh god, his humour was starting to become more and more like Snape's.

Macmillan paled. Harry didn't know why, but he didn't particularly feel sorry for the Hufflepuff or feel any ounce of regret.

He was just about fed up with the discrimination towards all Slytherins. If Snape wanted him to torture someone, he might as well pick the Hufflepuff brat, he thought humorously.

Harry suddenly froze. Of course, he never really meant it, but he was appalled at the direction his sense of humour was turning.

Harry was now sitting on the wooden bench, feeling as if his face would split. He was smiling so much that it couldn't possibly be healthy.

He had sailed through the second and third duels with flying colours, literally. There were so many colours zooming back and forth with the amount of spells going on. But nonetheless, Harry had made it out with minimum injury.

His second duel had been with a rough-looking boy with bulging muscles that heaved under his robes every time he moved his arms. In truth, he looked part gorilla. And the boy had a repulsive attitude that Harry detested.

So Harry had called him a buffoon, to his face. Apparently, there wasn't much restraint in his thick scull, because he was extraordinarily quick to anger. Harry swore he saw steam coming out of the boy's nose.

The boy looked like he wanted to come charging at Harry like an enraged bull and rip him to pieces with his bare hands.

All the better. Anger stopped people from thinking clearly. It was one thing Harry had too much experience with.

Following Snape's advice of digging out people's weaknesses, Harry had worked the boy's anger to his advantage and knocked him down flat with a few misleading spells and distractions while actually planning for the sectumsempra curse with one hand behind his back.

Harry could now see why it was a dark curse. There was so much blood when the curse was fired. Apparently, Snape had been going easy on him when he had cast the curse on Harry.

Harry almost regretted casting it. Almost. He was sure the gorilla boy would have cast something equally dreadful on him if he had the chance.

When his victory became obvious, it seemed the entire hall was dumbfounded. The gorilla boy had been the top in his year, and had one extra year of experience than Harry… and yet the first year Slytherin had won.

Down in the audience, Hermione looked like she had tears of joy in her eyes. Even Snape looked proud. Of his own teaching skills.

It seemed like he had finally managed to earn himself a name. He had done something extraordinary, something no one else did. He had performed marvellously.

Draco was flushing fiercely in the audience – only a couple of undefeated people still remained at the competitors' seating. The other Slytherins looked torn between boasting that one of their members was doing so well and ignoring him.

Harry felt satisfied. Triumphant. Determined. Successful. A mixture of all those emotions. Never once before in his life had he felt this way. The feeling seemed so addicting…so absolutely wonderful.

Never before in his life had he proved himself to be this…worthy. But this wasn't enough yet. He needed to achieve more. Now that he had gotten a taste of what victory felt like, he needed more.

He could gain more by winning the competition. He wanted to win. But he knew the chances of that were still slim.

Whether he won or not, Harry promised himself he would find that same feeling of achievement through something else.

Possibly for one of the first times, Harry was thrilled he was at Hogwarts.

The only downside was that the intense gaze of the Dark Lord was once again pinned steadfastly on him.

Great. He somehow managed to attract Voldemort's attention. Again. This was just great.

Now that Harry thought about it, Voldemort had seemed mildly interested in him before – such as when he conjured the black ropes, when he defeated three students single-handedly, when he presented the more complicated spells – but now… now that Voldemort had seen his sectumsempra, Harry was once more under his tight scrutiny.

Lord Voldemort wasn't even attempting to hide his interest. At first Harry tried not to look at the Dark Lord, in hopes his attention would just go away by itself.

No such luck. After that, he had taken to peeking at the dark wizard to see if he was still observing him.

Their eyes had met three out of four times. Harry flinched away the moment Voldemort stared into his eyes, but not before he saw the small smirk on the Dark Lord's lips.

Harry felt a burning annoyance. Why couldn't the Dark Lord go and bug someone else? Why him? He was always, always the unfortunate one.

When Lord Voldemort stared at Harry openly, his expression wasn't always plain interest. Sometimes he seemed distracted, musing.

It was as if Harry was a piece of meat and the Dark Lord was asking himself where to put Harry in the fridge, or maybe whether to cook Harry with carrots or just to throw Harry into a bowl of chicken soup.

Perhaps he was just feeling paranoid, and maybe the Dark Lord wasn't that interested in him. Maybe he was just exaggerating the Dark Lord's attention… but Harry had a chilling feeling that it wasn't so.

He had a horrible, horrible feeling that things were going to get complicated, much more complicated and worse. He had a strong gut intuition that things were just beginning.

The Dark Lord was a very powerful man. The most powerful man in the nation. Perhaps not by name, but from the things Harry had heard, he ruled like a king in the shadows.

The Dark Lord had many followers. He had a natural charm that not only worked on the opposite gender but also the young, old, and the in-between. Voldemort could do whatever he wanted.

He could prance about on the streets in a pink tutu, in the transfigured form of a pig. As long as people knew the pig was Lord Voldemort, they would flee in fear.

Lord Voldemort had everything he could ever want. He had more than what the common man could ever imagine. He had more than what anyone had ever obtained.

So why would he plant his interest in someone like Harry?

If it was possible, Voldemort had grown even more observant of Harry after he won the duel with the third year champion. His eyes were practically gleaming.

Harry didn't doubt why.

It was most likely that he had cast his first premeditated, fully-premeditated Cruciatus.

Harry was disgusted with himself. In all honesty, he didn't know why he did it. He really had no idea. Why? He kept asking himself. Why? And yet, he didn't even know.

There was an acrid, bile taste in his mouth, a nauseating mixture between sourness and bitterness.
So unlike from the mind-blowing savours igniting on his tongue that came with the Cruciatus.

That was just it. When he was performing the curse, his mind had been in a perfectly composed state. He had been wholly calm, cold. He had raised his wand, his hand still and unshaking, and the curse had just…just arisen from it; he didn't even have to will it into happening.

While he was performing the curse, it was as if his mind had drifted into an emotionless state. That was what scared him the most. He hadn't even cared if he hurt the third year. He cared now of course, but now was too late.

He could tell his curse had been a strong one. It had ripped his opponent like a leaf from the ground. It had then proceeded to attack his opponent with such vigour that it seemed almost like it could have crushed the student like a squashed bug.

Then the screams had come. They had been blood-curdling. They had pierced through Harry's skull like needles, desperate for the agony to stop.

Harry knew that without experience the real Cruciatus for himself he would never be able to fully emphasise with the victims. Such pain was unimaginable.

While he was instructing the curse to do its worse, Harry hadn't been in his normal state of mind – he had been savouring every moment. It was sweet and heavenly with a strong aroma of greatness itself.

The horror of the truth dug its way into Harry's head and clung on with its hurting claws. Harry had enjoyed himself. Perhaps not directly in causing pain, but he had relished in the power.

The worst thing was that his opponent had been a girl.

He had struck a girl with the Cruciatus Curse. He hadn't ever hit a girl before, and suddenly, in the space of a few seconds he was torturing one!

Sure, the girl was two years older than him. Sure, she had been vicious – not just the ruthless kind of vicious but the I-will-rip-you-into-shreds-because-I-have-power sort of vicious. She had looked like she would have cast something even worse than the Cruciatus on Harry.

Perhaps the only reason he had cast the curse had been brought on by her own actions.
Harry himself had experienced one of the most painful curses that had been stored up her sleeve.
He then had been forced into a corner, trapped by the girl with the savage leer on her face.

She had her wand raised in an all too threatening manner and was telling him outright how worthlessly pathetic his own spells had been and how she would slowly draw the torture for him out. She had been sadist. She then had explained exactly how she would "punish" him for competing against her. She most likely was mad.

But Harry, like any entrapped snake, reacted with lightning-fast speed and struck out like a viper with its most venomous fangs digging downwards. The Cruciatus had been the first curse on his mind, and he had not hesitated to use it.

Harry looked up from his hands as Snape approached in a flurry of swirling robes. "What?" asked Harry stiffly before Snape even got a chance to open his mouth. "What do you want?" The hostility was thinly veiled. He partially blamed it on Snape.

"There's no need to be so uncooperative."

Harry barked out a sharp, humourless laugh. "With all due respect, sir, I personally think I am very cooperative. I did as you asked although it was not my duty to oblige."
He was, of course, referring to the curse.

"I'm only trying to congratulate you, Potter. You did a nice job," complimented Snape smoothly. "A voluntary Cruciatus. I'm impressed."

Harry swallowed down the acrid taste that once again invaded his mouth. "That's great," he muttered. "Yay me; I tortured a girl."

Snape's mouth twisted scornfully into a thin line. "You can drop that chivalrous attitude. It's not going to do you any good."

Harry ignored him. "I shouldn't have done it. It was cruel," he murmured softly, half to himself.

"It was in self-defence," said Snape shortly. "That girl was ruthless. She looked like he would have half killed you if you had allowed it. She didn't even look perfectly sane."

Harry eyed his professor doubtfully, unsure whether Snape was serious.

"I'm one hundred per cent serious, Potter. You cannot fault yourself when you acted in self defence."

Harry frowned, suspecting that Snape was reading his mind.
"But I still shouldn't have –"

"Look, Potter," he snapped, running out of patience, "stop mopping about like some bleeding heart fool. You look ridiculous. As your Professor, I order you to clear that sorrowful look from your eyes."

Harry started to look from pensive to indignant.

"As poetic as you may believe you appear," continued Snape, "the majority just thinks you need a smack on the rear-end to wake you up."

Harry flushed an angry red. He couldn't believe Snape just said that about him.
"I do not think I look poetic," he begun heatedly. "And I do not need a beating either!"

"That's good to hear," Snape replied. "Now that you've finally got a hold of yourself, I might as well tell you that you're going to be up soon, again."

And it turned out he was. Harry was called up a few moments later.

Harry tried to control his flow of emotions as he stared at his fourth year opponent. It was better to keep a clear head during a duel.

The fourth year – a boy (thank goodness) – took the liberty of firing at least five spells non-verbally at Harry.

As Harry clicked into action, he didn't even bat an eyebrow towards the fact that the boy's level of experience outmatched his by miles.

And although it set Harry at a major disadvantage, he wasn't overly concerned. As long as he blocked every single one of the spells he had nothing to fear.

He also had a feeling this lack of anxiety was largely due to his anger at himself for not only casting the Cruciatus but enjoying it as well.

Meanwhile, Harry's magic was practically chewing his insides, suddenly full of life as Harry's anger continued to bubble.

All he had to do was let it out.

The poor boy never really stood a chance. In Harry's emotional state, his magic was wild, magnifying its power by at least two times.

Harry himself found the opportunity to vent his frustration. He felt slightly guilty as he piled spell after powerful spell on the boy, but he couldn't really bring himself to care.

Electrocuting curse, cutting hex, disarming spell, other minor spells…they dove up and down, circling around the rival until he could no longer maintain his shield.

He had suffered an embarrassing defeat.

Harry had passed into the next level.

Harry could tell, instantaneously, by her movements that she was not like anyone else he had encountered.

Her movements were elegant, fluid, and yet, impenetrable. She approached him with a confident yet wary air as her cold amber eyes swept over him calculatingly, judging him thoroughly. It sent chills down his back.

Her silky platinum blonde hair swished as her graceful body took a few steps towards him, taking all his responses in stride.

With a deliberate slowness, she casually drew out her wand, letting it hang loosely between her index finger and middle finger.

Harry knew the instant he made his move, her fingers would tighten around the wood. It seemed all too familiar to his own duelling style.

He couldn't find a weakness just yet. He didn't even know how strong she was… but he had a gut feeling she was powerful. Just like him.

Her offhand body language was practically an invitation for him to make the first move. So why not take it up?

So that was what he did. He flung a stunning hex at her. She moved so fast, so lithely, that he barely even noted her leap. She lunged towards him, taking him entirely by surprise, and cast a spell of her choice. "Imperio."

Her voice was soft but sharp, like the icy winter breeze.
And that was all Harry managed to think before he fell into a place of his dreams.

The feeling was wonderful, unlike anything else he had ever felt before. He felt slightly sleepy, his head heavy. He had all he ever wanted and more. But all he had to do first was to toss his wand up into the air. A small price to pay to stay somehow so delightful.

But a tiny voice at the back of his head urged him not to.
Why, why would you want to do something like that?
Harry hesitated. Yes, why? How was it logical?
He did everything for a purpose. But he wanted to throw his wand away. It was the perfect thing to do. It was the best thing to do.
But was it? No, not really. Harry strained with all his willpower against the influence of the Imperius, and finally found himself weaseling out of its grasp.

The fifth year girl was now looking at him with something akin to amusement in her eyes. "You're not like the others," she said. "You're more. But I am more than more."

Afterwards, Harry learnt the Imperius had always been to test him, to toy with him. The blonde-haired girl considered herself above his capability. And perhaps she was right.

The moment she decided to stop playing and get on with things, Harry found himself bombarded by curses. Two slicing hexes caught him painfully on the arm. A dizzying hex tossed his mind out of balance. Another curse set a needle-like pain through his body.

He only managed to get her once. He ignited fire to her hair.

She had been furious, her already sharp features twisting angrily so that her eyes sparkled revenge. And revenge she had got.

She got another few spells through to Harry before finally tossing him bodily from the stage. He landed on the ground directly below the stage.

At first his mind couldn't register what had happened… and then he realised…

He was out of the competition.

And the girl with the platinum blonde hair was Astoria Greengrass' older sister whom he had seen during the Sorting. Her name was Daphne Greengrass.

And she battled her way up to the seventh year before defeating him too and taking her place as the winner.

Sorry, I understand many of you may be disappointed at the conclusion of the competition, but I didn't think it would be realistic to portray as somebody who cannot be defeated.
Anyway, I promise the next chapter will be good with plenty of action. It seems our main character may have caught the Dark Lord's unwanted attention again. Even if Daphne Greengrass now shares that attention.
I personally think with Daphne Greengrass also a potential student, it may provide Harry with a bit of competition.

By the way, you have one of the guests to thank for the 'bleeding fool' comment. It was in one of my reviews.

Speaking of reviews...please review!

Review please!