Harry stood still, in disbelief over what he had done, before reaching with shaking hands to where he had stashed the polyjuice flask. Did Sirius- had he known about the-? Was it all planned? Was this entertainment ?

'Who am I kidding,' Harry thought bitterly, remembering what he, Delacour, and George Weasley had gone through in the first task. 'Of course this is just entertainment to them. Merlin. This world is crazy.'

His limbs felt heavy. He felt sick. He wanted nothing as much as to go back home, crawl into his own bed, and wake up to his mum calling him for breakfast. He wanted nothing, nothing in the entire world , as much as to make his way to the kitchen on a bright morning, for his dad to offer him a muffin and for his mum to snatch it away and make him eat something healthy instead.

But he wasn't there. That time was long gone. His parents were dead, and he was the only one left.

Harry took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm and rational, and took another step closer to the two bodies. It was only after a moment of silent inspection that he realized - whoever the person trapped between the walls had been, at some point in their life, they must have resembled Orsini quite a lot in appearance.

'Similar features.' Harry realized . 'Close enough to be... siblings? Is he an Orsini too? What if he's been my target all along?' How on earth could he tell which one was Mario Orsini? And if the man he had spoken to wasn't Mario, then who was he? How did he know about the Gone Tribe? There were so many things that Harry wanted to know, but how on earth could he even begin his search for answers?

Well, there was at least one thing that he could do.

Harry kept a tight hold on his wand as he made his way around the artist's house, in search for anything he could use to pour half the polyjuice into. There was no way for him to tell which one was the real Mario Orsini, and he was left with no other options but to try the polyjuice twice: once with each body.

The kitchen turned out to be upstairs, right next to a messy, unmade bed and a table almost covered in sketches and dirty dishes. With a grimace Harry picked a cup that looked less dirty than the others he could see, and cast several cleaning charms on it, just in case, before returning downstairs. He then carefully made his way back to the bodies, and hesitated before leaning closer to cut a strand of each one's hair.

'I hope it doesn't wake up suddenly and eat my arm,' Harry thought, eyeing the body of Orsini's prisoner. It had a chunk of flesh from the man's leg still in its mouth, blood still dripping in some places, and crusting in others. 'Nothing can survive a killing curse, but Merlin... I wouldn't put it past this thing to return from the dead.'

Moving towards the table while keeping his eyes on the bodies was a bit of a hassle, but soon enough Harry got to where he wanted to be. Carefully pouring half of the potion into the cup and adding the hairs into each portion was a bit of a challenge as well, as Harry couldn't help but lose his focus easily: he kept thinking of the possibility of the wall creature's dead body suddenly coming to life again, and crawling towards him at an inhumane speed.

It was terrifying, and he couldn't calm down until he had set the drinks on the table and took a hold of his wand once again. Just in case.

After waiting for the newly added ingredients to settle for a few minutes, Harry drank the first batch, and grimaced, feeling slightly nauseated as his body changed. He held the portkey tightly, but it didn't activate. It meant that whoever had been trapped in the wall, it wasn't Mario. Harry clenched his eyes shut and stood still, doing his best to ignore the terrible body he was in at that moment. Waiting for the effect of the polyjuice potion to wear off was an exercise in patience that seemed to last an eternity.

'Merlin, I hate this task,' the boy thought, fighting the feeling of nausea. The last thing he wanted to do right then was throw up - could this body even throw up? The tasks so far had been both disgusting and horrifying, and Harry was afraid of what the third one could be. Knowing Sirius, it would be something grand in all the ways that Harry hated. Should he ask Tom for details? Oh, no, Tom . If the man was watching - and he surely would be - then what would he think of Harry's actions?

Eventually Harry's body shifted back to its original form, and the boy couldn't help but hug himself tightly for a few long moments. He resisted the urge to take his shirt off to make sure that nothing of the creature had remained, and turned to where the rest of the potion was instead.

"Well," Harry sighed, reaching for the flask. "It better be you, then."

Just as he tilted his head back to drink, Harry spied something strange from the corner of his eye. Something blue.

Anxiety flooded back into his body, and he couldn't even taste the polyjuice potion when he realized what he was looking at: the same creature that he had seen on the street earlier. A creature that - there was no doubt of it - was of the Gone Tribe. It was huge, had to bend down to peer into the house, where Harry was standing, his body shifting into that of Mario Orsini.

He locked eyes with the creature, and felt... strange. Fearful, definitely, but not in the same way as he had been before. The feeling of something being horribly wrong washed over Harry's body, and the feeling didn't disappear even when the portkey finally activated, whisking him back to Hogwarts.

The moment his feet hit the ground at Hogwarts, Harry saw the towering hologram screens, and knew that he had been right. He felt disoriented and barely recognized Sirius when the man came to feed him a potion to neutralize the effects of polyjuice. There was so much noise around him, but Harry couldn't focus on anything long enough to listen. He felt dizzy with relief – he had made it out . Safely. Somehow .

"Drink it all up, Harry, there you go," Sirius was saying, helping him remain on his feet. Merlin, he was exhausted.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sirius said next, his magically enhanced voice reaching every member in the audience. "The first champion to return is Harry Potter, from Durmstrang! Let's give him the applause he deserves for such an amazing performance!"

'I want to sleep,' Harry thought, the tension of the day and the spellwork having drained him quite thoroughly. He tried to shake his head to clear his vision, which didn't help at all - it did nothing for his tired eyes, and only made him feel even more nauseated. The audience was still clapping and screaming, and it felt like a lifetime before Sirius finally raised his hand to ask for silence.

"Now," the man said, "it is time to see what our esteemed judges thought of Mr. Potter's performance! Did he do better this time around? Well, the judges certainly seem to think so! Harry Potter from Durmstrang scores a solid ten from Bellatrix, another ten from Edmund, and a... nine from Araminta - hard to please, isn't she? A wonderful score for the youngest champion! Now let's give him another round of applause before we send him off to the healers for a quick check-up!"

Much to Harry's relief, an assistant of some kind - he didn't know whose assistant, really - helped him to the hospital wing. He doubted that he would have been able to get there on his own, as with each step the exhaustion seemed to weigh heavier and heavier on him. He didn't remember much of the check-up itself, and was only vaguely aware of somehow ending up being carried by Truls - whom he recognized by scent - back to their temporary dormitory.

After that, nothing.

Until he woke up, that is. Still disoriented, hungry, and unsure of the day or time. Harry spent several minutes in his bed, trying to get his thoughts in order, before sitting up to see if he was alone in the room. He was; all the beds were empty, and there wasn't a single person in sight. He... he didn't want to be alone. Before he went looking for the others, however, he really needed a shower.

'I wonder if they're at dinner or something,' Harry thought, slowly climbing out of bed. 'Or - how much time passed? Hours? A whole day? Merlin, where's my wand?'

After a moment of slightly panicked searching, Harry found his wand under his pillow, and cast a quick tempus charm. Whatever day it was, it was already evening, it turned out. Well - that didn't matter. Even if the day after was a school day, Harry was done with the second task. He was one step closer to leaving the entire tournament behind him.

'I wonder what the third task will be like,' Harry thought, heading towards the bathroom with a change of clothes. Merlin, warm water was a miracle . Showers were amazing . 'I hope it's easier to deal with than the first two. I need to practice dueling more, however. And... and I completely forgot about the dagger when I was at Orsini's. I shouldn't have forgotten about it, even if I wouldn't have used it. Merlin... I have to remember it when the third task starts.'

When Harry eventually was done, he made his way to the common room, where he found Ingrid, Mette, and Maria. The girls looked up from the Daily Prophet copy that they had been reading together the moment Harry stepped out of the dorm room.

"Harry!" Mette said, sounding pleased. "You're finally awake! Are you hungry? Maria, go tell the Headmaster that Harry is awake, will you? Sit down, Harry, I'll call a house-elf to bring you something to eat. I doubt going to dinner with everyone else right now is something you want to do."

"Why?" Harry asked, sitting down. "Food would be great, thanks. Um, is it Sunday?"

"It's Monday," Ingrid said. "You missed a few classes, but obviously nobody is holding that against you. The Headmaster was so pleased with your performance; I doubt he has stopped bragging since you came back."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling anxiety creep into him again. Merlin, he didn't want to even think about the task anymore! "What happened after I was taken to the hospital wing?"

"Well, Delacour - she's an ice cold woman, she is - arrived a little bit after you," Ingrid said. "The way she went about doing her bit took a lot less fighting that yours did, but I suppose she got extra points for, uh, how merciless she was? I don't know. Either way, she received two nines and an eight, while you received two tens and a nine."

"And George?"

"Weasley? His task wasn't interesting at all, to be quite honest," Mette said with a shrug, after dismissing the house-elf she had called. "Some say it was very frightening, and they loved it the most, but to me - I like action . So do the judges, apparently. Weasley got a solid eight. You're leading! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Harry said tiredly. "Say, where are Truls and the others?"

"Library, probably," Mette said. "At least some of the boys. Some might be socializing, I'm not sure." It was then that Maria returned, accompanied by Headmaster Karkaroff and Professor Wiemar. Ingrid had been right, apparently - Karkaroff looked extremely pleased, and looked almost friendly when he mustered up a smile.

"Mr. Potter," he said. "Good to see you awake! Excellent performance so far, in the tournament. I must say that I was quite surprised to see the level of your spellwork, but of course, it is only a credit to Durmstrang to showcase such skill. Well done!"

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, his mouth dry and stomach in knots as he remembered casting the killing curse - twice, no less! In front of everyone! Tom would definitely use that as a leverage point to make him learn more Dark Arts, Harry just knew it. "I, um, I owe it all to Durmstrang's education."

"Of course," Karkaroff said, nodding. "You came highly recommended, and I see why now. Despite the tournament, however, I ask you to not neglect your other studies. You've a little bit to catch up on, if I'm not mistaken. And tomorrow you'll be up and about in class early, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent!"

"I'd like to add one thing more, before we leave you to your late dinner," Professor Wiemar said suddenly. "Mr. Potter, there will be reporters trying to approach you asking for interviews. Remember to make sure that they have the authorization, and be very careful in what you say."

"Yes, sir," Harry said again. 'He didn't even offer his help. I wouldn't mind getting some advice.'

Then again, even if he had offered his help, Harry wasn't sure if he would've accepted it. The thought of going to an adult with his problems was... it felt undoable. Tom didn't count and Merope was dead. Perhaps he ought to ask Sirius? Despite their disagreements, Harry really missed his godfather.

Maybe… maybe he could?

When Harry woke up early on Tuesday morning, he still felt exhausted in ways that had nothing to do with sleepiness. At breakfast Truls was looking at him with a worried expression, and kept trying to make Harry eat more.

"Those tasks are taking a heavy toll on you," Truls said. "You should take care of yourself better."

"I agree," Ingrid said. "We can't have you fainting or somehow lacking in school performance, Harry. Eat."

"I am eating," Harry replied, feeling slightly annoyed . 'I'd eat better if they weren't harping at me about it all the time.' "Which class do we have first?"

"Your favourite," Truls said with a grin. "Transfigura— oh, wow, what a scowl. But at least McGonagall is a good teacher, right?"

"Right," Harry sighed. "And it's not as if I hate transfiguration, I just... it's a struggle."

"Hang in there," Maria said, helping herself to a plateful of bacon that Harry knew Lestrange had been eyeing for a while now. "The Christmas holiday is right around corner. All we've got to do is survive until then, and you'll have some free time to relax."

"I doubt there'll be much time for relaxation," Harry said. "I mean, the third task is still ahead and I have no idea how much preparation that is going to need from me. Either way I can't waste too much time resting."

"But before we even get to that point," Mette joined the discussion, "we have the Yule Ball to look forward to! Harry, have you found a partner yet?"

"McGonagall's classroom is pretty far away, isn't it," Harry said hastily, standing up. "Best if we go now, Truls. We don't want to be late."

"I know what you're doing," Mette yelled after him. "You can avoid this for only so long, Harry! Time's running out!"

"You know," Truls said as soon as they left the great hall, "as much as I hate to agree with her, she does have a point. You really haven't found a date yet?"

"I haven't been looking," Harry admitted. "Can we talk about this later?"

"All right," Truls said. "So, what are your plans for the holiday? Dueling practice?"

"Actually," Harry started hesitantly, lowering his voice a little bit. "I, Truls... remember when I spoke to you about the life debt? About being worried? I... well, I'll be working on a solution to undo the life debt without you being affected by it, and, I just..."

"You're still worried about that?" Truls said, shaking his head. "I told you, nothing will change. I don't mind even if the life debt remained. I don't feel like it's holding me back or affecting the way I act or think."

"Still," Harry said. "I... I insist."

"Well," Truls sighed. "If you insist . Just give me a warning when you start doing... whatever it is that you're trying to do. And please be careful. I don't think that there's a way for me to be harmed directly as a result of trying to sever the life debt, but you be very careful to keep yourself safe as well, all right? If it turns out to be too risky to remove the life debt, then just let it be. Honestly, I'm fine . You're too soft."

"Not really," Harry said. "I'm not too soft. I... Truls, there's something I want to ask for you to do. You can... have some time to think about it, if you wish."

"Anything," Truls replied. Harry looked at his friend, and hoped that he wouldn't feel hurt by what Harry wanted to ask of him.

"I've told you... a lot of things that I've told no one else," Harry started. "I don't know how the life debt will affect you, and I... I fear that you'll grow completely indifferent to me."

"Impossible," Truls dismissed immediately. "There's no way-"

"There's a chance ," Harry interrupted. "No matter how small, there is a chance of that happening. And Truls... I don't want to ever worry about whether or not you have revealed my secrets to someone else. I don't want to ever question or doubt you."

"You won't have to," Truls said, but he wasn't as dismissive with his tone as he had been earlier. "But if there's anything I can do to assure you, then please, don't even hesitate to ask for it, Harry."

Harry stopped, glad for the absence of other people in that corridor, and pulled Truls a step closer. He looked up at his best friend and laid both of his hands to rest on Truls's shoulders, before sliding them gently to rest his palms so close to Truls's throat that he could press his thumbs lightly against it.

"I need you to take a vow of secrecy," Harry said quietly, his lips nearly touching Truls's as he spoke. "I need you to take a vow to never ever reveal my secrets to anyone else, no matter what."

Truls didn't move an inch. Instead he stared at Harry with an expression Harry had never seen on his friend's face before. He then leaned down just enough to press a soft, warm kiss against Harry's mouth, before straightening up again.

"You're that sure that something is going to change?" he asked. Harry, his mouth still slightly open and feeling a strange desire for something unknown building inside of him, swallowed and nodded. He didn't dislike the feeling of heat at the pit of his stomach, even though he decided to ignore it.

"Yes."

"In that case," Truls continued. "A favour for a favour. I'll take the vow if you'll be my date for the Yule Ball."

The hours after dinner found Ingrid in the common room working on her academic portfolio. For a seventh year student the question of future employment was a matter of great importance, and there was no such thing as starting too early to polish up one's merits for a job hunt. She had barely finished it when she heard someone entering the common room, and glanced up to see Harry and his friend, Truls.

'I wonder if something happened,' the girl thought, noticing the unusually good mood that Truls was in. The usually stoic boy whose resting bitch face was clearly a default that reflected his personality with great accuracy, was smirking smugly as he walked next to Harry. Ingrid huffed, deciding that his good mood was none of her business, and called out for Harry instead.

"Yes?" the boy asked, and hesitantly sat down when she pointed at the couch.

"Have you had any training in etiquette?" Ingrid asked, going directly to the heart of the matter that had bothered her earlier. "You were told yesterday - and you must have realized it yourself already - that you'll be gaining a lot of public attention from now on. The first task already got some people interested in you. Now, with what happened during the second task, there will be even more of that."

'Etiquette?' Harry thought with growing concern. 'I mean, I think I have decent manners?'

"I'm going to assume that the answer to my earlier question is no," Ingrid said, looking at Harry's clueless expression. "Well then. Kettil, feel free to go, Potter and I will talk for a few more minutes. Potter, do you know how to dance? We might as well focus on the things that will be relevant for the Yule Ball."

"I do," Harry said, sighing when his friend left him behind. "I'm all right. Good enough to not be embarrassing, I suppose."

"That's fine, then," Ingrid said with a nod. "What about dining etiquette? Or when you're introduced to older people with more influence than you? Do you know how to greet people, and what to say to dismiss yourself politely from a conversation?"

"Uh..."

"Shaking hands? Referring to people? Dueling etiquette?"

"Well," Harry said. "I know about dueling."

"Holy Medusa," Ingrid muttered, and shook her head. "We've got a lot to cover, then. I can give you a little bit of tutoring when it comes to those matters. Not now, however. It's quite clear that whatever you and Kettil have been up to, is still distracting you, so you might as well go to him now."

"What." Harry's face flushed red, and the expression on his face was suddenly that of wide-eyed panic. "I don't— um, I have no idea —"

"Yeah, sure," Ingrid interrupted with a lopsided smile, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I honestly don't care, and I doubt most other people do, either. Just... be careful. You can never be too careful with certain matters."

"No, it's really nothing," Harry insisted, still blushing as he stood up to leave. "He just promised me something, that's all."

"Sure," Ingrid said as she watched the boy leave. As soon as Harry had disappeared into the boys' dorm room, Mette crawled out from under the table, startling the older girl rather badly.

"Something happened between those two," Mette said, sitting down on the couch Harry had just vacated. "I just know it."

"What I want to know is what on earth were you doing under that table?" Ingrid asked. "I didn't even know you were there!"

"Oh, I was just eavesdropping," Mette said dismissively. "I was looking for a lost earring there when Harry turned up, and I didn't want to interrupt your conversation with him. Anyway, I wonder if Truls asked him to the Yule Ball or something. It was pretty obvious that that's all the boy has been wanting to do ever since we were told about the ball."

"Do you have a date yet?" Ingrid asked, curious to know.

"Yes," Mette replied with a smug smile. "I got one fine catch! I've said this before and I'll say it now again: all eyes will be on us!"

"Well, at least that will make it easier for Potter to not make any embarrassing mistakes during the ball."

"If he's lucky."

"Knowing him by now, even if he conducts himself perfectly well, something will happen anyway," Ingrid said. "Merlin, the way that second task went from slightly creepy to absolutely terrifying... I don't think that part was planned."

"The guy in the wall?" Mette said. "Who knows. Potter dealt with it very well, didn't he? I'm sure he can deal with whatever else is thrown at him."

"Let's hope so," Ingrid said in agreement. "But at least it's highly unlikely that he'll wow us all again in the third task. I mean, is there anything that can top two killing curses in a row?"

"Nothing pops to mind," Mette said. "Good for him, I suppose. Less stress that way."

Harry had expected that by Sunday he'd feel as if the second task had been nothing but a nightmare that he could discuss with his friends. That... didn't turn out to be the case. Oh, he did have some nightmares because of it, but that wasn't the worst of it all. There was... what felt like permanent anxiety constantly bothering him, and no matter how much he tried to focus on other things - the Yule Ball, the life debt, everything else - he just couldn't get back to feeling normal.

At times he'd suddenly, in the midst of doing something else, look up and ready himself to drop and roll to safety, forgetting that he wasn't at Orsini's house anymore. He had been feeling very twitchy and found it hard to concentrate on anything. The worst of it had been on Thursday, when he spent the entire day feeling strangely detached, as if he was a bystander just watching himself.

That Sunday he had woken up earlier than anyone else, and hadn't been able to lie still in his bed in the dark for longer than fifteen minutes before he felt the need to get out . He quietly got dressed and left to take a walk in hopes of that somehow changing his mood for the better.

It was too early for breakfast to be served, but the library was already open and Harry saw a few teachers - and even a couple of students - out and about. He had no reason to approach any of them, and continued to make his way through the corridors aimlessly, until he realized that somehow he had ended up near Sirius's office.

'I wonder if he's here,' Harry thought, before knocking slightly on the door. A moment later it swung open, and a disheveled Sirius was there, looking at him with a surprised expression.

"Harry!" the man said, a smile appearing on his tired face. "Come in! Merlin, the office is a mess, but you know me by now, eh? Don't mind the papers and the, uh, food containers. Just sit down. Anywhere. It's good to see you! How are you?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, sitting down on one of the couches in Sirius's office. "Did you sleep here?"

"Oh, just took a nap, really," Sirius replied. "Meant to go home and sleep properly, but there's so much for me to do that I just... didn't. Are you fine, really? You've been through quite a lot, Harry."

Harry looked down at his feet, wondering if he really could somehow try to make enough sense of his own thoughts and feelings to be able to share them with his godfather. "I... I don't know. Did... that man in the wall, did you know about him?"

"No," Sirius replied with a grim expression on his face. "The targets were actually donated to us, in a way. A few people volunteered their squib relatives. In Weasley's case the relation was slightly more distant, since his target was an ancestor of a pureblood family who was punished for his condition with a curse. Harry... I wouldn't voluntarily put you through the kind of ordeal that happened during the second task. You did very well, and I am proud of you."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "How is what happened to me worse than what happened to our targets? I saw the footage - Delacour killed a child , Sirius! A child with no legs! George's target was bound and helpless and- And you're telling me they were volunteered by their families?"

"It's better to not focus too much on these issues, Harry," Sirius said soothingly. "I know that you're under serious amounts of stress, especially after what happened with James. That's why I... Harry, would you like to consider talking with a therapist."

" What ?"

"It's... it's a step towards better health, you know, and nothing to be ashamed of," Sirius continued gently. "Someone who listens to you and is capable of providing you with any kind of help to make you feel better and—"

"It's not that I don't want a therapist," Harry cut in. "But the thing is, Sirius, do you think you can find me a therapist who doesn't consider lack of magic to be a crime worthy of a death penalty? A therapist who can actually see this... this entertainment for what it truly is? Because honestly, Sirius, I don't think there's anyone like that in this country. Not anymore."

"All right, no therapist then," Sirius said, doing his best to keep Harry calm. "What would you like, instead? What would make you feel better?"

Harry fell silent for a moment, before he said: "I just... I want to know that there's someone for me to go to when I want support. Someone I don't have to be careful around." Someone who would hug him without making Harry feel like he was imposing or that he owed them for it.

"You know, Harry," Sirius started. "You can always come to me. Even if you and I don't agree on things, it doesn't mean that I would ever hold your opinions against you. Merlin , there's nothing you could do that would make me turn away from you. Nothing that would make me side against you. Nobody, not even the Dark Lord, could make me bring you to any harm, Harry. Do you understand that?"

"I do," Harry said, fighting the sudden and overwhelming urge to cry. "I just... I get so confused sometimes, Siri."

"And that's perfectly fine," Sirius assured him. "But when confusion becomes something that hinders your life, when it makes you constantly sad , then I want you to come to me, all right? We'll talk it out together and see what we can do about whatever is bothering you."

'Would it really be that simple?' Harry doubted that, though he nodded hesitantly. "And you won't tell anybody?"

"Not a soul," Sirius promised. "Your secrets are safe with me."

'Maybe I'll tell him,' Harry thought. 'When the tournament is over.'