All That Glitters Also Darkens
Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Recommended Reads: Aspirations by megamatt09, Apex by JustBored21, A very Black plan by Rose1414, Harry Potter and the Founders' Vault by CharmedMilliE- Karry Master, Pray For The Wicked by Kapiushon, Harry Potter, Dark Legacy by The Fallen One 2012, The Best Laid Plans by Lowten, Soul Scars by Rtnwriter, I Once was Lost but Who was Found and Rituals and Artifacts: A Fourth Year Story by bluezinthos, I See No Difference by maschl, Angry, Overpowered Harry Potter by TomHRichardson and The Boy Who Lived, The Brightest Witch and The Boy Who Wasn't by dragonfly117
Key Pairing: Dark Harmony;
Other Pairings: To be determined
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
/Parseltongue/
Review Answers:
Stephanie MRV: Actually, she claimed to have listened to Dumbledore, as in past tense; confused? This chapter might just clear it up;
"Oi, Hermione! Where is he?"
Without looking back, Hermione rose from her seat before she scowled as she hissed out three words.
Two of which she didn't yet know were words spoken by the object of her wrath;
"Piss off, Ronald."
Then, she was gone.
After all, she had more important things to do than, to quote one of her favourite authors, bandy crooked words with a witless worm.
Chapter 1: In This World and the Next
Rage.
Fire.
Darkness.
Destructive thoughts and images up the wazoo!
Harry James Potter, aged fourteen, had all these things in spades, and then some, all thanks to the blinders he wore when it came to the Magical World being ripped from his face, showing him exactly who they were, what they thought of him and what he really means to this ass-backwards, rotten-to-the-core-and-deeper-still world all over again.
Ironic, really, seeing as how this had happened before.
Back in his second year, in fact, when his outing as a Parseltongue had divided Hogwarts' thoughts and loyalties to their so-called faith in their nation's hero. Only a small handful of people had stayed true to their beliefs back then and, among them, Harry had found his friends being the key supporters throughout the emotional turmoils he'd experienced as a result of that particular revelation.
But this time…
No…
This time was different, and not just because Ronald I'm a big idiot with a jealousy streak bigger than all of Hell and half of Texas Weasley was one of the naysayers. Nor was it because, this time, his newest blacklisting was made even more public because the Ministry were in attendance, as well as honoured guests from around the world – or rather, across the Continent.
No, what made this blacklisting different from that one was the fact that the truth was staring these morons in the face, as clearly and brightly as the neon signs of Las Vegas, and yet, not one of them seemed to notice the bleeding obvious.
Glitters
Harry was fourteen.
The Tournament was for seventeen-year-olds.
And, as it was called the Tri-Wizard Tournament, only tri…THREE wizards, Champions of their respective schools, could enter.
Durmstrang had Viktor Krum – whom Harry silently guessed now had a chance to prove he was so much more than a broomstick rider.
Beauxbatons had Fleur Delacour – whom Harry guessed now had a chance to prove she was so much more than a pretty face, not that he'd admit that she was pretty, mind you, especially not after she'd openly claimed he was just a leetle boy.
And Hogwarts, the host school, had Cedric Diggory – whom Harry knew would make their school proud because, apart from being fierce on the Quidditch Pitch, he'd also heard from Fred and George and several older Gryffindors that Cedric was less a badger and more like a wolf: docile to behold, but get in his crosshairs and…run!
So, to recap.
Three Schools.
Three Champions.
Was that really so hard to understand, and then realise what was wrong with the picture?
Obviously, yes…
Glitters
'Someone managed to enter me under a fourth school's false name,' thought Harry, choosing to ignore the Great Hall and the tempting aromas of the breakfast feast as he instead made his way out into the chilly autumn air outside Hogwarts, his eyes burning with tears of rage that he refused to shed, least of all where anyone could see him.
Instead, he drew his tears inwards, using them to stoke the fires of annoyance and rage that burned inside his soul as he mused, 'Not only should that have been impossible, seeing as how, again, this is supposed to be the Tri-Wizard Tournament, a contest between three schools, but, more than that, I'm not even old enough to enter, not that I wanted to. But does anybody realise that? Do they even care? Have any of them realised the truth when it's as clear as the nose on Snivellus' ugly mug? Fuck no!'
Before he knew what was happening, Harry felt pain exploding in his left hand; as his sea of rage ebbed away, the emerald-eyed scion's eyes widened in disbelief, as well as a small note of amusement, when he saw that the source of the pain was courtesy of him driving his clenched fist into one of the stone monoliths across the bridge outside the entranceway.
The punch hadn't even made a dent in the stone, naturally, but Harry was amused because, even with his rage fuelling him, he hadn't noticed he'd done it, until the deed was done. On top of that, not only could he feel pain rippling up his hand; he could also feel and see blood trickling down his knuckles, from where he guessed the stony formation had cut into his exposed flesh.
As he felt his blood trickling down across his skin, a small, almost-content smile crossed Harry's face as he pulled his hand back, eyeing the cut flesh, as well as the rivulets of crimson life force that both pooled and danced across his clenched fist. Given the fact that it was Harry, he wasn't even surprised to notice how he hadn't cried out in pain at the impact, much less how he'd hurt himself.
The Three Slugs of Little Whinging had done much worse to him, as had the Magical World, so a cut knuckle was about as truly painful to him as a bee sting; and yet, as he looked at his bleeding fist, the smile that crossed Harry's face became one of peaceful resignation.
The chill of the autumn morning brushed over his wound, making it sting weakly, but, to Harry, it felt…good.
It made him remember that he was alive, and that he was still capable of feeling something other than blinding rage, though the fact he'd tried to punch out solid stone with just his left hand might have suggested otherwise.
Lifting his bloodied hand to his lips, Harry licked his tongue across the blood, once again feeling a sting of pain from the abrasions on his knuckles, as he licked himself clean of his blood.
Lowering his hand again, the young boy scoffed as he mused, "What am I doing? Letting them get to me like this…it's no better than what I did with Sirius last year…"
"Harry?"
Looking up from his musings, Harry saw Hermione standing on the end of the bridge, her eyes narrowed in apparent curiosity that, after only a moment, turned into alarm, if not disbelief when she saw his bleeding hand.
"Hi, Hermione," said Harry, his eyes taking in the alarm on Hermione's face, while he also scoffed to no-one in particular as he asked, "I suppose you're here to accuse me of cheating Dumbledore's magic and entering the Tournament without telling you how I did it, huh?"
"N…N…No…Harry…" said Hermione, crossing the space between them; as she did so, Harry's eyes narrowed when he saw her remove a plain-looking tissue from her pocket, before, reaching him, she wrapped it around his bleeding wound. As he watched, Harry saw her caress his covered knuckles softly before, to his surprise, she lifted the knuckles to her lips and kissed them, before caressing them again as she looked up at him.
"Who did this? Was it Ronald? Or one of his lame-brained friends? Who dared to hurt you, Harry?"
"Nobody," admitted Harry, jerking his head towards the nearby stone as he scoffed, "I…I kind of…did it…to myself, Hermione; I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing. I…I was just so…angry, and…and, well, I guess…I suppose my body did the rest."
"You…you did it…to…to yourself?" asked Hermione, earning a sheepish-looking smile and a nod from Harry, before Hermione looked into his eyes as she asked, "But why would you let them get to you like that, Harry? They…they're not worth it; none of them are…and as for that greedy pig and his appropriately-named owl, the only thing he deserves is something similar to what I did to Malfoy last year. Although, with him, I might try and aim my fist, or maybe even my kicks, a little lower…not that he has much use for something as tiny as that, anyway!"
Suddenly, Harry frowned in curiosity, "Hermione: are…are you feeling okay? You…you're acting kind of…weird; I'd even say crazy if I didn't call you my best friend, but…"
"You can call me crazy if you want, Harry," argued Hermione, before she let out a wry laugh as she admitted, "I'd kind of have to be, if I even thought for one second that you were guilty off being in this sick, perverse, Roman Gladiator game of theirs, anyway. Plus, if I even believed you wanted into this nuthouse stuff, then I'd be thicker than Ronald, especially since, unlike him and the rest of them, someone here not only knows you're underage, but…well…I mean…"
To Harry's amusement – as there was a small part of him that had always found Hermione's tirades to be remarkably-cute, if not adorable to behold and have to listen to – his best friend then blushed, toying with the tips of her wild, brown hair as she gulped hard before she whispered her next words in an almost-inaudible murmur.
"I'vealwaysbelievedinyouHarry."
"I'm sorry?" asked Harry, cocking his head to one side, before he saw Hermione look up at him.
"I…I've always believed…in you, Harry…ever since you…you first saved me…and even before then; I…I read about you, as you well know and…and I thought of…of what sort of wizard you might become. And…and in my mind, I…I saw this great force…perhaps even greater than Merlin himself…and…and as my body grew…and me with it…I…I never stopped believing in that."
Again, Harry smiled as he heard Hermione bare her soul to him, her voice growing steadily stronger as she looked up into his eyes before she went on, "When…when I said you had the means to be a great wizard…that night, in the third-floor corridor, remember?"
Harry nodded.
"I…I told you…there were more important things than books and cleverness, like friendship…and bravery…but, what I didn't get a chance to tell you, mostly because I was worried how you might react, was…was that power was also more-important…and having faith in someone to have all that power and…and be able to stand in their shadow, watching them rise higher than Icarus himself and…and stride across the skin of this world. And that…that's something I never stopped believing in, not where you were…where you are concerned, Harry!"
"I…I see…" said Harry, before he took Hermione's hand in his as he asked, "So…what's different, Hermione? What I mean is…why are you coming out with all of this now? If it's because you think I'm more distracted by the Tournament, then…"
"It's not," said Hermione, though her voice was firm and absolute, as though she refused to accept, much less guess that anything else was driving her, as she explained, "I…I don't really know when it started, Harry, but…well…there's something I've never told anyone; something that…that I hope only…only he who I believe in most of all, to the exclusion of all others…that he might understand with me."
"What?"
Pulling her hand from his, Hermione licked her lips slowly before she looked up at Harry once more as she gulped hard before she spoke in a soft voice, albeit one that had its words spoken clear and precise as she answered her best friend.
"Harry…I'm not the Hermione Granger you knew last year…in fact, I'm not even the Hermione you knew in this time…"
"This…time?" asked Harry, earning a nod from Hermione, "Where…where are you from, then?"
Again, Hermione seemed to struggle with her words, before, taking Harry's cheeks in her hands, she gulped hard as she whispered three words;
"Sorry about this…"
Then, before Harry had a chance to stop her, Hermione kissed him hard and fast.
And yet, he didn't pull away, and not just because he found himself liking the taste of her lips on his.
No.
The other reason he didn't pull away was because of how, as soon as Hermione kissed him, Harry felt his mind explode with images, thoughts, feelings and experiences, none of which he himself could have claimed to have lived.
It was then, as these images filled his head, he knew when Hermione had come from, although he couldn't quite understand how she was.
'Hermione,' thought Harry, closing his eyes as he surrendered to the stream of images flashing before his eyes;
'You're from the future!'
Wow, so the adventure begins and, talk about a twist in the tale: Hermione's not only the girl we thought she was; she's not even from this time? When is she from and why would it affect her so…intensely now?
What, exactly, is she sharing with Harry, all thanks to his first kiss?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Time for a little tale of the tape: a tale of love unrequited, plots and schemes fulfilled and found out, and one soul's eager desire to make sure history never repeats itself, even if it means becoming everything she isn't along the way…
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