Harry's consciousness was returning to him. He could now feel the rise and fall of his lungs, the coldness of the floor on his back. His eyes slowly fluttered open and drunk in the brightness of the unknown place he woke up in.
"It worked!" Harry heard someone exclaim, but he was still too dazed to tell if the person was far or near. He took a moment to collect his strength and with considerable effort, got on his hands and knees, then pushed himself off of the floor into a standing position.
Harry paused to examine his surroundings. He was in an empty and spacious room with stone walls and wooden pillars for support. In the corner there was a wooden staircase that led up to a door. In front of him was the only other person in the room, a disheveled haired, pale man who eyed Harry with a look that was both expectant and apprehensive.
"Bartemius? What happened to me? What wretched place am I?" Harry snarled at the man with a hoarse voice that wasn't his own.
"My Lord, it really is you!" the man's freckled face lit up with joy. He burst into tears and fell to his knees, prostrating himself before Harry. "I never lost hope, my Lord. Not even for one second."
"I will explain everything as best as I can my Lord," the man, Bartemius, said while getting up, "but first allow me to fetch you some clothes."
"Winky!" He shouted and a small house-elf with long droopy ears apparated by his side. "Go into Father's closet and bring clothes for our Lord."
"At once Master," the house-elf said and disapparated with a crack.
Harry looked down to find he was inhabiting an unfamiliar naked body. This was a dream, he now realised.
"No, you can start explaining why I am in a dirty basement now Bartemius," Harry's dream-self ordered.
"Do you not remember my Lord? After your last mission you" Bartemius stopped and gulped, dreading the next word that would come out his mouth "died."
"That is not possible," Harry snapped at Bartemius, who cowed.
"I don't know how it happened either, no one does. Your body was found on the Po-" Bartemius was interrupted when Winky reapparated holding a pile of neatly folded clothes with a pair of boots on top.
"Put them on the table Winky," Bartemius instructed and Winky hurriedly walked past the very naked Harry, averting her eyes. Harry turned around to look at a table he hadn't noticed was there before. The pile of clothes the elf was holding was now sitting on it, but what attracted Harry's attention were two halves of a cracked, oval, metal container that was beside the pile.
Harry grabbed one half in each hand and turned to Bartemius. "Are these what I think they are?"
"Yes, my Lord. That was your horcrux."
"So it is true, I died?" Harry asked, more to himself than to his benefactor, who just nodded his head.
Harry gripped the cracked pieces of the horcrux tighter, anger flowing through his body. "How long?"
"Thirteen years ago, my Lord."
"And just who, Bartemius, is my supposed killer?" Harry asked, voice dripping with hatred.
Bartemius opened his mouth and "Harry! Wake up mate, we're going to be late" in Ron's sweet voice came out of it.
Harry felt his body being gently shaken and he jolted awake to find Ron sitting on the edge of his bed. "Uhnn, what the hell Ron? It's Saturday," he protested with a groggy voice.
"Dumbledore has some big announcement he wants to make today, remember? Every single teacher has reminded us to 'attend breakfast Saturday' at least once last week."
"Right, I'd forgotten," Harry admitted, rubbing his eyes. He was still dizzy by the too lifelike dream he just had been woken from.
"Something wrong Harry?"
"No. I was just having a weird dream when you woke me."
"Must have been some dream, even I woke up earlier than you today. Was it the wet kind?" Ron joked and playfully looked under Harry's duvet which earned him a friendly punch in the arm.
"Shut up you git," said Harry between chuckles. He looked around the dormitory to find all the other boys had left.
"Everybody's gone to the Great Hall already," Ron explained, "Want me to wait for you?"
"It's okay, Ron. You can go ahead. I'll freshen up and join you."
"All right, mate," Ron said and left.
Harry stayed in bed a few seconds longer, willing the last of his sleepiness out of his body. He could still feel soreness on his hands from when he gripped the cracked horcrux in his dream. Never had Harry ever had a dream so intense and vivid in his life.
Better not dwell on it, he decided. Intense dreams are still just dreams. With a spring on his step Harry got out of bed, grabbed his clothes and headed to the showers.
• • • • ϟ • • • •
When Harry arrived at the Great Hall all of his housemates were already seated at the Gryffindor table. Their plates were still empty, which meant Dumbledore had not summoned the food yet and therefore Harry was not late, which was a relief. The Great Hall was packed, which was unusual for a Saturday morning. Even more unusual was the fifth long table which stood unpopulated in the middle of the Hall, in between Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's.
Harry also noticed new additions to the staff table. A severe-looking mustached man in a black robe was sitting on Dumbledore's right, next to Professor McGonagall. On the man's table was a big ornate cup, the kind one wins at a car race, in a glass display case. And on Dumbledore's left there were two empty seats.
Harry sat in the spot Ron had saved for Harry, in between himself and Hermione, and was greeted by his friends.
"What are we talking about?" Harry asked, eager to join the conversation he noticed had been going for a while.
"We are speculating about the announcement Dumbledore is set to make. We're guessing it involves the extra table," Hermione answered without looking up from the thin book she was reading.
"Whatever the announcement is, I hope he makes it soon. I'm bloody starving," Ron complained.
"I heard from Hannah, who heard from Anthony, who overheard Pansy talking to Daphne that Hogwarts is set to create a fifth house," Lavender squealed. "The colours of the new house are supposedly purple and white and their mascot is a scorpion."
"A new house? When we are three weeks away from year's end? That makes no bloody sense," retorted Seamus.
"I have to agree with Seamus," Harry said, "it makes no sense to create a fifth house now. Plus the four houses were created by the four founders of Hogwarts, there is no fifth founder."
It didn't escape Harry that another house would mean another quidditch team and another match per season. Oliver would have absolutely loved that. The thought of his handsome former captain brought a smile to his lips. Harry missed him.
"Maybe they are creating a house to honour the Architect. I don't know," Lavender tried to counter, not sounding convinced by her own argument.
"I heard something similar," started Neville. "Allegedly the Ministry of Education decided the good old Sorting Hat is too old and not good enough to do its job so they are sending a new hat to Hogwarts that has a fifth house as an option. And worse, everyone is to be resorted, even seventh years, and there's no guarantee you'll be sorted in the same house again. I think that's what Dumbledore will announce."
The thought of being separated from his housemates created a pit on Harry's stomach. He remembered how stubborn the Sorting Hat had been about placing him in Slytherin. What if the new hat was even more stubborn? Harry couldn't imagine life without Ron and Hermione, and he didn't want to. They would still be friends if they went to different houses, of course, but not having Hermione to study with in the common room, or goofing around with Ron before going to sleep every night just wouldn't feel like Hogwarts anymore.
Dean scoffed. "Thar sounds even less likely."
"What do you think Dumbledore's speech will be about, Dean?" Seamus asked him.
"Probably something to do with inter-house unity. Dumbledore will come to the lectern and say that each week a different year of every house will have to sit together at the middle table, in an effort to lower bullying or whatever. So one week the first years of all houses will sit at the middle table, next week the second years, and so on."
Harry considered the idea, he was friendly with Ernie and Terry, and it would be nice to expand his friend circle, but having to sit with Malfoy for breakfast, lunch and dinner for an entire week seemed like a nightmare.
"I don't think that's a bad idea," Parvati said, "House rivalries are dumb anyway." Her opinion didn't surprise Harry, her twin sister was a Ravenclaw after all. Not being in the same House must be hard for them.
"I heard Hogwarts will start accepting house-elf students and they're going to have their own house," Sophie said, with some dread in her voice. She seemed to think the idea of studying with elves horrifying, and Harry silently judged her.
"There's no way the government would allow that." Hermione complained, lifting her head from her book. "It breaks Clause Three of their precious Code of Wand Use. Not that house-elves don't deserve education, because they do. The way they are treated is inhumane, their work conditions are analogous to slavery. I believe that …"
Hermione continued to rant but Harry tuned her out. He imagined Dobby in tiny Hogwarts uniforms, waving around a wand. Though he doubted Dobby would even need a wand. He remembered how Dobby had blasted Lucius down a flight of stairs the day Harry freed him, using just his tiny hands to spell. With some formal education he would become just like Professor Sinestra.
Harry had been fascinated by how she could perform magic without a wand ever since he saw her wandlessly and wordlessly cast a repairing charm on an intricate mechanical scale of the solar system Crabbe had accidentally knocked down and made splatter all over the floor.
"A moment of your attention, please." Dumbledore started his speech, bringing an end to Harry's musings. The Headmaster had walked up to his owl lectern and was now waiting for everybody to quiet down before continuing to speak.
"Most of you have, no doubt, noticed the extra table and are abuzz with speculation about its purpose. That table is reserved for some very special guests," Dumbledore announced and half of the Hall gasped and the other half broke into hushed whispers. Harry could swear he saw the Headmaster grinning behind all his beard. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the big double door in the beginning of the Hall and it slid open to reveal a bevvy of people, half dressed in blue and half in red, standing on the other side. More gasps and whispers followed.
"You see," Dumbledore continued, "this year Hogwarts has the honour of hosting a legendary, international event. The Triwizard Tournament!"
"Oh," Hermione perked up, "I read about that tournament once. It's a competition between Hogwarts and two other schools," she hushedly told Harry and Ron.
"For those of you who do not know," Dumbledore carried on with his speech, "the Triwizard tournament brings the continent's three premier wizarding schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, together for a series of three contests."
Hermione's lips contorted into that self-satisfied grin she always has when she's proven she's right.
"Who cares about magical contests? Bring the food," Ron grumbled, clutching his belly.
"The rules and specifics of the tournament will be explained in detail later. Now let's give a warm welcome to the graduating class of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Headmistress Madame Maxime!" Dumbledore exclaimed and led the Great Hall into a round of applause for the Beauxbaton delegation, who had been waiting to be called in.
The Beauxbatons Headmistress, a gigantic woman in a chic red dress and a bob cut, walked in the Great Hall and a procession of elegant older teens in baby blue uniforms followed her in orderly fashion. Most were looking around the Hall with expressions of distaste on their faces.
Madame Maxime was as tall as Hagrid, perhaps even taller. Harry wondered if she was also part giant. She walked up to the staff table, greeted Dumbledore and sat on the vacant seat on Dumbledore's left.
Harry scanned the Beauxbatons students, who had now sat down at the middle long table. He noticed quite a few boys that were pleasing to the eyes. One in particular, with curly blond hair and pretty angular face, was the most pleasing to Harry.
He watched the pretty boy chat animatedly with a silver haired girl seated next to him and thoughts of having a fling with the foreign cutie crept into Harry's mind.
All Harry wanted was to snog a cute boy who wouldn't go around the school telling the Boy Who Lived's secret. Perhaps he was being paranoid but Harry didn't trust anyone at Hogwarts to not kiss and tell, and the last thing he needed was to give Malfoy more ammunition to make fun of him. So having a nice time with a pretty stranger he's never going to see again after a week was quite an appealing idea to him. Not that Harry would ever have the courage to approach the boy, or any boy for that matter. He sighted and imagined the cute boy murmuring sweet nothings in French in his ear.
"She's a veela," Hermione whispered to Harry, knocking him out of his reverie.
"Huh?"
"The girl you and all the boys are ogling. She's of veela descent, you can tell by the silver hair. And because all the boys are ogling her."
"Right, yeah. She's smoking," Harry lied quickly. He looked around and yes, most boys were indeed staring at her. Poor Neville was so entranced by the girl he left his mouth hanging open.
"She's not 'smoking' Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes, "She's hypnotizing you, it's what a veela does."
"Never mind her Harry. Hermione's just jealous cause no boy ogles her," Ron teased.
Hermione huffed. "And you are beating off girls with a stick. Right, Casanova?"
Ron frowned and Harry could tell he was going to make a comeback so he decided to change the subject to prevent his friends from going on another interminable bickering session. "Mione, what else do you know about this tournament?" Harry asked. "I never heard of it."
"Not much," she admitted, "I only read about it once on Hogwarts : A History. It said the tournament was canceled after an incident when a rogue cockatrice that was part of a task harmed the judges."
"Bimey," Ron said, "They have beasts on the tournament?"
Hermione nodded. "Beasts and all other kinds of danger. Oh, and if I remember correctly only a single student from each school competes."
"I guess that means most of them," Harry gestured to the middle table where the Beauxbatons were seated, "are only here as spectators."
Dumbledore resumed speaking. "And now let's give a round of applause for the graduating class of Durmstrang Institute and High Master Igor Karkaroff!" He commanded and again the Great Hall broke into applause.
The Durmstrang delegation walked in, led by High Master Karkaroff; a tall, thin, sinister looking, black haired man with an ugly goatee. He was carrying a bejeweled box under his right arm. After him several students in red suits and thick fur coats marched into the Hall in robotic fashion.
"It's him! Viktor Krum!" Ron exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the famous seeker among the Durmstrang students. "I can't bloody believe it. Victor is here in my school, in the same Hall as me, breathing the same air."
After greeting Karkaroff and showing him to his seat next to Madame Maxime, Dumbledore turned to the students. "Good morning, bonjour and добро утро to all."
"It is mine and the Hogwarts family's immense pleasure and honour to host you. Albeit the time we are together is brief, I hope this tournament allows us to learn something from each other and create some unforgettable memories. I'm sure you are all tired and hungry, so I won't bore you much longer. Let's feast!" Dumbledore clapped his hands and the empty plates in front of them filled with food. The house-elves outdid themselves this time, during his four years in Hogwarts Harry had never seen this variety of food.
Ron, who had been complaining about hunger until minutes ago, was now ignoring the delicious dishes in front of him and was gazing dreamily at Victor Krum.
After a long bout of staring and not eating, Ron finally said something. "Krum's going to win this tournament, I'm sure. He won the Golden Glove award."
"Yeah, and lost the World Cup," Hermione snarked.
"Because his teammates were dragging him down. You said this tournament is a solo affair, right? Krum will demolish the competition, I can feel it." Ron returned to stare.
Harry decided not to point out Ron didn't even know if Krum would want to participate. He didn't exactly understand what Ron saw in Krum. Sure he was a fantastic seeker, much better than Harry could ever hope to be, but he still lost.
Harry looked at Krum again. He was damn handsome, Harry had to admit. Though that wasn't something Ron would care about.
"Desist Weasley." Malfoy's unpleasant voice sounded off from the Slytherin table, which was next to Gryffindors. "Krum's not gonna shag you, no matter how hard you stare at him,"
"Sod off Malfoy," Harry shot right back and glared at him.
"Why Potter, I'm looking out for you," Malfoy said with mock shock. "The last thing you need is for your boyfriend," he emphasized the word, "to put a pair of horns on your head. You already resemble a grindylow so much." Malfoy finished and his cronies broke into laughter at his stupid joke.
Dubledore started talking again, drawing their attention. "Here to explain the rules of the Triwizard Tournament is Minister of Diplomacy and International Affairs and my good friend, Barty Crouch," Dumbledore clapped and moved aside so the mustached man Harry had noticed before could take the lectern.
"Thank you Albus," Minister Crouch cleared his throat before continuing. "Eternal glory!" he shouted, "that is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard tournament. His or her name shall be recorded in the annals of history alongside all the formidable and valiant past winners."
Harry snorted. Minister Crouch was trying way too hard. No one besides Hermione even knew this tournament existed until minutes ago. He looked at Ron, hoping to joke with him about it, but his friend seemed transfixed by Crouch.
"And because to the victor goes the spoils, the winner of the tournament gets to take home the beautiful Triwizard Cup," he flicked his wand and the display holding the cup floated to his side so he could show it to the students and then he floated it back to the table. "And that's not all. Since this is a very special year, the first time the tournament is held in over two hundred years, the winner shall also receive 1000 galleons."
Ron gasped at the mention of the monetary reward and stared at Minister Crouch harder. Most of the Great Hall shared his sentiment. Students who were slouching or yawning now sat straight up and listened attentively. Minister Crouch smirked, knowing he had captured the student's interest now.
"But to win the Triwizard Tournament that student, the school champion, must accomplish three tasks. Tasks who will test the student's magical prowess, powers of deduction and, of course, ability to cope with danger. And to select which student will represent each school we have ourselves an impartial judge. Igor if you will."
Harry was confused. High Master Karkaroff would be selecting the participants? That hardly seemed impartial to him.
Karkaroff approached Minister Crouch holding the bejeweled box he was carrying earlier. The Minister touched the box with his wand making the lid open and retrieved from inside the box a large wooden cup.
"This is the Goblet of Fire," Crouch said and the goblet he was holding with his left hand was set alight with a beautiful blue flame. "It shall determine who is worthy of becoming champion of each school."
Minister Crouch flicked his wand to levitate the box that held the Goblet and placed it a good distance from where he was standing. And then floated the Goblet from his hand to the top of the box.
"To enter yourself as champion, write your school and your name on a piece of parchment and put it in the goblet. Do not worry, the flame doesn't burn," Minister Crouch chuckled, amused at his own non-joke. "And please write your entries in block letters, so they're easier for me to read."
He continued. "The Goblet will give us the names of the three it has judged worthy to represent their schools at dinner tomorrow night. You have until then to put your name forward."
"And," Minister Crouch sighed, his voice filling with disappointment, "to prevent any underage wizard from falling in temptation..." he stopped speaking and pointed his wand to the floor. The Minister made a circular motion with his hand conjuring a circle of blue runes on the ground around the goblet. "...I have put in place an age line that will prevent anyone under seventeen from getting to the goblet."
Ron let out a long sigh of disappointment. "Of course," he said sarcastically under his breath. Most of the younger students started booing and protesting. "That's rubbish," Fred and George yelled in unison. "Let us compete," some Hufflepuffs started chanting. The Beauxbatons kids looked horrified by the entire scene.
Minister Crouch took the negative response in stride. "I know, I know. I think it's an unnecessary restriction too. It was an imposition by President Fudge himself. He wouldn't agree to let me revive the tournament without it."
He waited for the crowd to calm before continuing to speak. "Lastly, I would like to warn you that the act of putting one's name on the goblet creates a binding contract, there's no backing out if you're selected as champion. So be sure that you're fully committed before entering your name. Now that you've been properly warned, the Triwizard Tournament is officially open for entries."
"Shame we're not old to enter, eh mate?" Ron said.
Harry considered the idea briefly. He did like the excitement of playing quidditch, but quidditch was relatively safe and in quidditch he was part of a team. He was not about to undergo three deadly tasks by himself for some kudos. "Don't quite see the appeal of becoming champion Ron. I'd rather not put myself in the path of an angry cockatrice."
"Says the guy who killed a basilisk."
"To save you sister, you prat; not for glory and some galleons."
"You've been famous and loaded since you were a baby, you wouldn't get it," Ron dismissed Harry's point. "I wish I could enter," he said wistfully.
"I for one think Potter should be our champion," Malfoy started, "Who better to represent the joke that is this school than a clown?"
"Aww, what's wrong Malfoy?" Harry replied with fake compassion, "Upset your Daddy can't buy you the championship, like he bought your seeker position?"
"As if I would care for some silly school competition," Malfoy scoffed. "Some of us are well bred and don't lack in prestige or money. But, alas, I don't expect someone with your level of intelligence to understand that, Potter. The filth you keep for company proves it," Malfoy sneered and walked away with his posse before Harry could fire back.
"I almost wish that git would be champion," Hermione said, "only for him to perform so badly he sets the new record for worst score."
"That would be the dream, wouldn't it?" Ron said while laughing, then he suddenly paused then got up to talk to his brothers, who were sitting quite a bit away. "Fred, do you still have that ink bottle?" Harry heard him say, but he wasn't focusing on Ron.
Hearing the word 'dream' got Harry thinking about the strange one he had earlier this morning. Specifically something that had been in the back of his mind, bothering him.
"Mione, do you know what a horcrux is?"
"Horcrux," She repeated slowly, "I've never even heard that word before. What's a horcrux?"
"I don't know either. I heard it in a dream, and it's been bugging me. I don't know if it's a real word or some gibberish my brain invented."
"I could look into it when I go to the library later if you want."
"No, it's fine. I think it's just some nonse-"
Harry was interrupted by a sickeningly cute boyish voice that said "I think you'd make a good champion Harry." He turned around to find Colin staring at him with eyes full of adoration. Harry hadn't even noticed when the boy had sat on Ron's spot.
"Erm, thanks Colin," Harry said awkwardly, his cheeks getting redder by the second. He jumped in his seat when he felt Colin's knee touch his. "I mean, you defeated You Know Who. I can't think of a better representative," Colin moved a little closer, "So Harry, I was wondering if yo-"
"Oh wow, look at the time, I totally forgot Professor McGonagall had asked me to meet her at her office. I should get going. Say bye to Ron for me Hermione." Harry swiftly got up from his chair and bolted away from his number one fan. He thought he heard Colin say "But Professor McGonagall's still eating breakfast," but Harry could care less if his excuse stuck or not.
When Harry stopped running he was on the courtyard. Out of breath, he sat by a tree to recuperate. He stayed in the tree's shade a while, just breathing in and out.
He was being stupid, Harry knew that. He longed for some modicum of love and yet when a reasonably good-looking boy showed interest in him, he literally ran away. If that was even what Colin was doing. Colin was probably just being friendly. He should walk back to the Hall and finish his breakfast, he shouldn't be this scared.
Harry turned to look at the path that led back to the castle. He got up and took two shaky steps forwards before sitting back down again. He should get over his fear, he knew someday he would, but not today.
.
.
.
Bleiath's Comment: Sophie is one of the two unnamed Gryffindor girls in Harry's year. I got her name from J.K.'s Original Forty list.