As usual, I don't own the weakling that is Harry Potter; if I did, then I can promise you I would never allow Harry to be such a weakling when the Sorting Hat claimed he had lots of courage with a thirst for not only knowledge but a thirst to prove himself. In my mind, the perfect Harry Potter is a version of Harry who is a criminal, and as a result, his brain is wired up differently, hence the reason why I'm writing stories where Harry is a criminal. Hope that answers questions why I've got so many.

Oh, and if people find this story and others boring...don't. However, those who do want to read my work and enjoy it, carry on, and please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!


The Treasure Hunter.

Despite already knowing by now he shouldn't have been expecting much especially since the staff were so thoughtless that even when the opportunity came for them to see their actions from a hindsight perspective, Harry was actually disappointed the staff in this ridiculous castle hadn't even bothered to set up two new tables for their guests.

The only thing he could think of to explain that little lack of foresight was because Dumbledore and the Headmasters (Headmistress in the case of Beauxbatons) from the foreign schools had wanted their students to interact and make friends with one another, although so far the French students from Beaxbatons and the Bulgarian (and other eastern European countries, he was sure he had heard somebody speak in Russian while another spoke in Italian, while another spoke in German) mob from Durmstrang hadn't yet done so. They preferred to keep themselves to themselves, even though the French lot sat with the Ravenclaws (Harry wondered why, but he wasn't going to bother asking) and the Durmstrang bunch sat with the Slytherins, and for someone who preferred being left alone himself, Harry didn't see anything wrong with not bothering to ask them about their preferences.

As he sat with Hermione and Ron (honestly, he really looked forward to the day where he could finally say goodbye to these two useless spies who thought they were so clever it was pathetic), Harry watched the proceeds to the Goblet of Fire ceremony. At the staff table, everyone was watching as well - Dumbledore himself, despite wearing the usual composed and serene manner he always wore along with those robes he had used to ensure he had the image of an eccentric old wizard, appeared weary as well. Harry felt a spiteful pleasure knowing it was down to him and the revelation of so many secrets in a short amount of time, secrets which had found their way not only out into the school which wasn't difficult since McGonagall had only embarrassed herself in front of the entire school at breakfast when she had poked her nose into his business. Once the student body had seen the burn scars on his back, it hadn't taken long for the Daily Prophet to catch wind of what had happened.

From what he had found out Dumbledore had been trying to field the whole thing off as a 'misunderstanding,' when that happened Harry had retaliated with an interview with one of the more reputable reporters of that newspaper (he had made it very clear to the Daily Prophet if they sent Skeeter, they would wish they hadn't) and he had told them what had happened. Harry hadn't had any problems sneaking out of the castle, he had been finding ways of getting out for years, and thanks to the Marauder's Map it was pathetically easy for him to find opportunities where Filch and any of the other teachers weren't patrolling the corridors of the castle.

The newspaper story that ran after that interview had been glorious because Harry had included everything; memories of how the Dursleys had treated him from what he'd been able to retrieve before they tried to burn him alive which he admitted he had needed to speak to a master legilimens he had allegedly found to retrieve the memories which were buried so far down in his mind like the memories of his parents and that night where Voldemort had come calling to kill them, and he included them in the media. Right now everyone knew the story of how his parents were murdered, word for word, and they also saw written in the newspapers the nasty things the Dursleys did. And there was no way they could deny it since Harry had publicly sworn an oath on his life everything was the truth.

The newspaper had started an avalanche; for years the magical world had wondered and then later made up everything that happened around that night, and it shocked them to hear the final moments of Lily and James Potter before they were murdered in cold blood by a power-crazed psychopath who'd spent years deceiving the pureblood's into following him into putting on stupid Halloween costumes and murdering everyone they disliked because they weren't 'pure.'

But for everyone to hear those final moments was shocking for them, and now there were newspaper articles being printed every day concerning that night and at the same time, the memories of what had happened to him at Number 4 had been dissected by the public and the newspaper. And it wasn't pretty. Harry had realised as soon as those memories had been sent, the hatred towards muggles, on the whole, would escalate, so he had included good memories he'd had in the muggle world and messages in the Daily Prophet which made it clear not all muggles were magic-hating savages, and while they hadn't completely stemmed the flood, there was still hatred towards muggles.

However, the damage to Dumbledore's reputation was severe. For a long time, Dumbledore had been cultivating the image he was Harry's mentor even though Harry himself had been denying it since he hadn't even personally met the old wizard until he first walked into Hogwarts, and now everyone knew Dumbledore was lying and even worse he hadn't even bothered to find out if the Boy Who Lived was safe or not, and Dumbledore hadn't even gone to visit Privet Drive to see if his charge was there. Nobody understood why, and everyone in the magical world expected would one day take the old wizard's place when Dumbledore became too old and too tired to carry on anymore after a lifetime spent fighting the dark.

Ever since the newspaper articles had begun coming out, Dumbledore had been called away by the Ministry to answer questions. Harry had been afraid at first of Dumbledore just wriggling his way out of the whole mess, but it appeared whenever he appeared at meals, the old wizard was very tired. Harry hoped whoever was questioning Dumbledore was not letting the old wizard pull one of his fast ones and speaking in that cryptic malarkey about bugger all which made no sense whatsoever. It was long overdue Dumbledore told people the truth, but the old man had spent a lifetime lying and telling half-truth after half-truth.

Dumbledore hadn't made the same mistake McGonagall made which had resulted in this whole mess. He hadn't summoned Harry to his office for a chiding talk while he tried to persuade Harry to retract the story. It seemed the old wizard had learnt it was not going to happen, or he had realised it would just make things worse, so now he was trying to put some distance between himself and Harry for a short time before calling him up. But Harry had seen the frustration in Dumbledore's face whenever the old wizard appeared, not to mention the fatigue but Harry could not bring himself to feel even remotely sorry for Dumbledore since the old man had gone out of his way to meddle and control people's lives, and now hopefully he was being taught a long-overdue lesson. Strangely enough, Snape and the other teachers had also strictly left him alone, although many of them appeared horrified about the stories which had come out; if they hadn't been ordered by Dumbledore to not say a word, well he wouldn't be surprised.

In the meantime, he had been dealing with the rest of the school. Harry had felt a lot of sympathy from the students, but he hadn't given them the time of day. Ron and Hermione had also been unsure of what to say to him, and he knew why; Dumbledore had been ordering and coercing them into trying to make him forgive the Dursleys and go back to them, but now the stories had come out he had been nearly killed and the memory of it had been printed in black and white in the Prophet had shaken them.

As he ate some Bouillabaisse which was quite different from the normal menu, Harry was reminded of the two foreign schools' presence; it wouldn't surprise him in the least if the teachers and Dumbledore were pleased by the presence of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons since it meant they wouldn't have to keep looking and watching him, but at the same time he could see clearly the foreign students had gotten word of what had happened to him. Harry knew the Daily Prophet, while not an international paper, wouldn't have reached France or Eastern Europe, but there were still dozens of issues lying around the school. Finding one and translating it would not be difficult, especially since the front-page photos were so graphic they'd need to be blind not to notice.

Harry had answered a few questions from the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students when they'd approached him despite Hermione and Ron's advice he should steer clear of the foreigners. Hermione had been admittedly more tactful than her red-haired comrade, but Harry had ignored them both. He knew their desire to keep him away from the foreigners was because Dumbledore had told them to, and at the same time the old fool was likely trying to once more claim he should treat all things that happened to him as unimportant and he should be forgiving. Yeah, right. The old fossil was deluded for thinking he would do something like that, especially with scum like the Dursleys. But what he couldn't understand was why Dumbledore wanted to keep him away from the foreign students since he had invited them here in the first place, unless of course, he was trying to keep everything in Britain.

Whatever.

It hadn't meant anything, of course. Harry had been speaking to more than one of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, many of them hadn't even been curious about the article, but he had only spoken to them to branch out and appear as rebellious to Dumbledore and his lackeys, but in truth, he had been curious about the foreigners, their homes, their schools. There was nothing suspicious about that.

And the students who had asked him about the article… well Harry had sworn a magically binding oath (more than once) and told them everything in the newspaper articles were the truth. McGonagall, catching wind of it, and she had tried to put a stop to it all. Harry was disgusted with the actions of his so-called Head of House. He had realised Dumbledore had once more told her to do something, and in her typical thoughtless way, McGonagall had obeyed.

It wasn't until Harry had pointed this out to her, in public, McGonagall realised what she had done, but the damage was done and McGonagall's reputation took a battering. Now everybody knew not only did she know of the abuse and had been disgusted openly by the injuries marring Harry's back, she thoughtlessly on Dumbledore's orders tried to stop the knowledge of it spreading when the story was already out there.

Harry was busily eating in the Great Hall while the Goblet of Fire prepared to spit out the names of the Champions in the Triwizard Tournament. He hadn't really paid much attention to the Goblet before tonight; he knew if his worst fears were to come true, it would be happening tonight. Harry was keeping watch on the Goblet tonight. He had no idea who it was who was going to get over Dumbledore's infantile age line which was so pathetic the old wizard needn't have bothered since it wouldn't stop anyone putting his name in the Goblet.

And boy, did he have a list of suspects who'd love to see him in the Tournament, and sadly after what he had done with the article, he could put Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Cornelius Fudge and several other important officials in the Ministry in the queue, right up there with Voldemort and his bastard followers. He had learnt enough about its sordid history to be very worried about what he'd face if he was entered, and he had learnt the first task usually involved a dangerous magical creature; in one of the historical tasks, the idiots had even used a basilisk!

The damn thing had been uncontrollable since none of the Champions could speak parseltongue to control the giant serpent, and unsurprisingly it had killed the unfortunate Champion assigned to it. To make matters worse, during that particular Tournament, there had been a manticore and a chimaera. And it had been a disaster, and it had ended before it had started because none of the Champions had been prepared for their Tasks, resulting in a diplomatic mess of epic proportions that it was a miracle in itself the Tournament ran again, and it had.

But the Tournament was a farce. It was nothing more than an international dick-measuring contest; people like Fudge or Dumbledore would claim the whole thing was for international relations, and well Fudge would likely believe that complete and utter lie, but Dumbledore himself would know it simply a match to determine who was best, and if the other two competitors were injured or killed, it was something to write home about, praising the country in question for their teaching methods.

The Goblet glowed blue, and a flash of fire spat out a piece of parchment. Dumbledore deftly caught it, and pressing his wand to his throat he called out in a magnified voice. "The Champion for Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic is…..Fleur Delacour!"

Harry clapped politely as the tall, blonde-haired, blue-robed witch stood up, already feeling her Veela allure from where he was sitting at the table, but he managed to filter the worst of it out. His contact with the new French Champion was limited. He had spoken to her twice, the first was when she had wanted to take a bowl of Bouillabaisse, and when she came and asked him the same questions as her peers when she got wind of the newspaper articles. She had seemed nice enough, but while she was attentive Harry liked spending time with people so he could get a better view of their personalities in the long-run.

He might be clapping politely, everyone else around him was yelling like mad at the girl, many of them who just wanted to get into the French girl's panties while many of the girls in the hall were the opposite, especially the now crying classmates of Fleur. It was clear to Harry everyone from Beauxbatons had received an edited story of the Triwizard Tournament, or they were ignorant of the events of the past. Somehow he had a feeling everyone in the hall was the same.

Fleur posed and smiled at everyone in the hall, making the guys cheering her yell louder but Harry noticed the look in that lovely pale face of the blonde girl, and the lifting of the lips..it was more subtle than the prominent sneer of the Malfoy family, but it was more mocking than the malicious disdain exhibited by Draco or Lucius. Fleur didn't like the attention any more than Harry himself did whenever people meeting him went gooey-eyed, and gooey brained at the sight of his scar.

When she was out of the hall and when Dumbledore had, miraculously, restored order to the Hall when the Goblet glowed blue and spat out another slip of parchment the old headmaster deftly caught.

"The Champion for Durmstrang Institute is…. Viktor Krum!"

Harry flinched as the volume of the Quidditch obsessed nutcase's in the Hall erupted into cheers as the red-robed figure of the Quidditch star stood up and walked to the anteroom where Fleur was waiting. It was even worse when Ron himself leapt out of his seat and catcalled the famous Quidditch player. Krum ignored it all, but Harry saw a subtle grimace cross his already serious, grumpy features. He could dimly hear the sound of Karkaroff's voice calling out to Krum as well, but it was probably just well-wishing. Nothing to worry about.

Pretty sure that he was pleased this was over, if he was reading Dumbledore's expression correctly, Harry watched the old Hogwarts headmaster snatch the parchment that came out of the glowing Goblet once more, just as he magically called for silence. "The Champion for Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry is…. Cedric Diggory!"

Harry was a little bit surprised the current Head Boy from Hufflepuff House had been selected. He hadn't really had much time for the older boy, but Diggory seemed nice enough. Cedric smiled humbly although he grinned openly while his fellow Hufflepuffs cheered in delight one of their own had been selected. As he watched them cheer, Harry winced as he realised, if he was right, things were going to become very rough. The Hufflepuffs were the most undervalued House in the castle, with everyone looking down on them for taking the leftovers, but in truth, Harry had never had anything against them even if he had found many of them incredibly stupid.

If they turned on him if his worst fears were realised in the next ten minutes, then he would wonder why they had bothered to come up to him and apologise for the aggro they'd caused him two years ago.

Harry didn't bother listening to Dumbledore as he made his next announcement which he began as soon as Cedric was out of the room. Instead, he just focused on the Goblet of Fire, guessing his Halloween curse which had begun as soon as Voldemort tried to murder him would once more cause him more grief. He hated Halloween - ever since Voldemort had tried to murder him on that one Halloween night when he'd just been a baby, following up through with all the other nasty Halloweens he'd had to live through over the years until he just wanted to run away and live and hideaway in a tent, although he was pretty sure if he did that, a plane would have lost all power by magic, and then it would have dropped like a stone on his tent.

He felt butterflies in his stomach when the Goblet glowed again, stopping Dumbledore in his tracks, and making everyone in the hall go quiet, although one or two people muttered to their neighbours, wondering what was going on. Harry prepared to stand while Dumbledore deftly caught the new piece of parchment.

The look of disbelief looked so genuine, but Harry was near enough and he thought he saw a flash of something cross the old wizard's expression. It looked like triumph mixed with something else, but Harry couldn't identify it.

"Harry Potter!"

Everyone in the hall turned as one and stared at his expressionless but resigned face. Harry clenched his fists, ready and willing to take out his wand in case anything went too hostile; while many of the kids in the hall had apologised to him for the way he'd been treated back in second year, there was no doubt in his mind some of them hadn't meant what they'd said, and this was going to give them fresh ammunition.

Harry wasn't surprised by this latest turn of events, that didn't mean he had to like it though. He stood up before Dumbledore could call out his name for the second time, and to stop Hermione from jabbing her elbow into his side or anything like that, and he stood up. He happened to glance down at Hermione and Ron, his so-called 'friends.' He wasn't surprised to see Ron was fuming visibly, glaring at him in anger and jealousy, and he mentally thanked his lucky stars he carried his main trunk with him otherwise the red-headed idiot would be able to get into his trunk. Hermione looked genuinely shocked by what was going on, and one glance into her eyes and a brief legilimency probe showed the so-called smartest witch of the age hadn't known this was going to happen.

Harry sighed and he walked up to the staff table, casting his green eyes around the hall and he snorted in contempt when he caught sight of Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley along with several of the other 'puffs. Their expressions were already dark with anger and jealousy that he had upstaged their precious Champion. But since he knew how Hufflepuff had been relegated to the sidelines in comparison to the other houses of the castle, Harry couldn't blame them for their anger. He only hoped it didn't blow up out of all proportion, and as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Harry made a decision, even as he shook his head at how Malfoy was already muttering to his friends. Friends, cronies more like it.

At the same time, Harry snorted again, this time when he noted the angry expressions on prominent professors like Snape who had never hidden his loathing for him.

He came to a halt in front of the staff table and turned around, his gaze expressionless as he masked his feelings under his occlumency barriers.

"For the idiots in this place who think I put my name into the Goblet of Fire," he began, pausing for a second while he carefully chose the wording for what he wanted to do. "I have this to say to all of you….I, Harry James Potter, do hereby swear on my life, I did not nor did I ask anyone to put my name into the Triwzard Tournament where I would be chosen as a Champion. Also, I swear I could not care less about Hogwart's honour, nor do I care about an international game like this, so mote it be!"

As soon as Harry's body flared brightly as the magic of the oath took effect, he cast his Patronus charm instantly instead of using one of the other spells in his repertoire. It was all carefully planned. He would take the oath and then he would cast one of the trickiest spells he knew about. The sight of his oath and one of the trickiest spells he knew in his arsenal would show he was telling the truth.

And if they still didn't believe him… well, he would deal with those in the long run, and if they tried anything then he would send them up to the Hospital Wing.

"I'm not going to have another repeat of my second year," Harry went on, gazing around the hall coldly, "this time I am not playing the pathetic, infantile games you enjoy."

With that, he walked into the anteroom. The three older Champions are standing some distance apart, and it was obvious Cedric, judging from the abashed expression on his face, had been trying to engage them both in conversation but he hadn't gotten very far.

"Harry?" Diggory looked at him in surprise. "What's going on?"

"Do they want us back in ze hall?" Fleur asked.

"No, somehow I've been entered into the Triwizard Tournament," Harry folded his arms and leaned against the wall, unsurprised the French Champion would jump to the conclusion he was a messenger.

"What?!" All three Champions yelled at the same time, but before anyone else could say anything, the door to the anteroom crashed open, and a number of people raced into the room.

Dumbledore was in the lead and he was racing towards Harry. "What do you think you were doing, making that oath like that?!" The old wizard demanded, forgetting himself and grabbing hold of Harry.

Surprised Harry gazed into the old wizard's face and a faraway look appeared in his eyes. And then suddenly he lashed out with a vicious punch to the chin, knocking the old wizard back. Dumbledore gasped as he was sent flying back, but Harry quickly grabbed him by his beard and yanked it back like a dog owner getting control of his dog.

"Do not ever touch me again, and stay out of my personal space in future, otherwise I will forget I'm a wizard and break the rest of your bones! Do you understand?" Harry let go of the beard while he ignored the gasps of shock at what he was doing, and Dumbledore staggered around, but before anyone could say anything Harry went on.

"As for your question, didn't you see the atmosphere out in the hall when my name was called, or are you so far removed from reality with your fancy titles and your head in the clouds, that you didn't notice how many of the Hufflepuffs were angry with me when my name came out of the Goblet? Or the way some of your professors were gazing at me? I was not about to let the mess you allowed to fester two years back occur again, and if I have to insult Hogwarts, embarrass you so I can survive, so be it! I don't care about your reputation, after what you've done I couldn't care less if you were on fire, and I wouldn't put it out!"

Dumbledore had paled as Harry had spoken; puzzlement had crossed his face when he had begun, making it clear the old wizard hadn't noticed the atmosphere in the Great Hall at all, but a flash of anger crossed his face when Harry claimed his head was in the clouds, but it had grown worse as he'd gone on. But when Harry finished up, the old wizard looked a cross between stunned, angry and horrified.

Harry didn't care which it was.

He was already half regretting what he had done to Dumbledore, but he had reacted out of instinct when the old man had grabbed him, and he had been annoyed the old wizard felt he could touch him and not expect anything in return. Still, he knew it was rash to punch Dumbledore like that, especially since it had been done in front of witnesses.

"Mr Potter, that is enough!" McGonagall spoke up, and Harry turned to the old witch who, once more, was acting as Dumbledore's attack dog who went for anyone who was making the old headmaster look foolish and make them out to be the bad guy. Harry snorted disdainfully at the old Transfiguration mistress.

"You're right, it is. I want to know how my name got in the Goblet in the first place," he went on, deciding to ignore the old woman and move on away from what he had just done to Dumbledore.

"I think it's clear what happened, Potter," the quiet, malicious voice of Severus Snape rang out, and Harry turned and found himself looking at the repulsive form of the black-robed Potions Master. "You somehow tricked a student into getting your name into the Goblet of Fire-."

"And I anticipated somebody stupidly making that assumption, and I put it into my oath as a result," Harry interrupted Snape, glancing at Dumbledore and the others for a moment to see how they were taking this, and he was disappointed but not surprised by Dumbledore's clear confusion about what he should be doing, "please tell me you were listening to the oath, Professor, and not only paying half of your attention to what I was saying. Was that what you were doing, indulging yourself with your fantasies of getting one over on my father because you're too pathetic to move on?"

"Pathetic?!" Snape's face flushed red with rage. "You arrogant-!"

"Severus, that is enough!" Dumbledore had by now recovered to take control; Harry was still disappointed by the old man's lack of common sense and his inability to handle events as he had just witnessed between Harry and Snape. "Mr Potter did indeed swear a magically binding oath, and magic itself sealed the oath. He is indeed telling the truth."

Snape glowered, his mouth twisting angrily; Harry guessed the older wizard was annoyed with himself for looking like an idiot in front of everyone present but he couldn't bring himself to care. It wasn't his fault Snape had selective hearing, but he knew the Potions Master would lash out at him later out of spite.

At the same time, Harry wondered why Snape was even here. McGonagall's presence was legit even if Harry didn't like the older woman; she was the Deputy Headmistress, and she was Harry's Head of House. Snape wasn't the Deputy Head, nor was he Harry's Head of House, so what the hell was he doing here? One thing was for certain, he wasn't even going to ask; it wasn't worth the energy.

"Madame Maxime! Zis little boy cannot compete, he will be killed!" Fleur said to her headmistress, and while Harry was offended by how the older girl had described him, he felt she had raised a good logical point.

"Nevertheless, Mr Potter here will need to compete. The Goblet of Fire created a magically binding contract between all of you," a wizard who was wearing immaculate robes stepped forwards, his iron-grey hair and moustache glinting in the light on his lined face. "

"And there's no way I can get out of this?" Harry asked rhetorically.

He knew there wasn't. Oh, he guessed if he had a proper magical guardian, he might have a little leeway, but he didn't. Dumbledore, annoyingly enough, held all the cards in this, and after seeing the expression on his face, Harry was willing to guess the old wizard was not going to do a thing to get him out of this, either because of his plans but he would not be even remotely surprised the old wizard wanted him to participate out of spite for everything he had done.

For the next hour, the moustached wizard and the buffoon Bagman, who looked like an idiot in his Quidditch robes which looked ridiculous with his potbelly, bouncing around, telling all of the Champions the facts of the Tournament, when the First Task was. Harry had stepped back and didn't say a word, instead, he had just listened and he began thinking about the numerous ideas he had in mind. The most important thing he needed to do was find out what was going to happen in the Tasks, and as he looked at the so-called Judges, dismissing the Headmasters and one Headmistress instantly, as well as Crouch, whom he instinctively knew would not do anything to help, he focused on Bagman.

The former Quidditch player didn't seem like he had any kind of sense, given how he was bouncing around the room, and he also seemed unaware of how stupid he looked and how embarrassing, given how McGonagall and Crouch were gazing at him in contempt. But Harry knew better than to underestimate people. He didn't know anything about Bagman, or what he was secretly like.

His mind flashed to a movie he had watched some time ago; the Mark of Zorro might have been an old swashbuckling movie by anybody's standards, but it was still a classic, but witnessing how Tyrone Power's Diego de la Vega acted like a foolish, apathetic fop in the face of the cruelty going on around him while he was secretly taking it on as Zorro, it had made it clear people could be anything they wanted if it helped them. And it wasn't just de la Vega, but Bruce Wayne, and the Scarlet Pimpernel who had adopted the same manner in order to disguise their operations. He would have to find a way of getting to Bagman alone and he would have to surprise him…

Once the little meeting ended, Harry got out before one of the teachers said anything and he was out of the hall quickly, knowing McGonagall and Snape would most definitely have not forgotten what he had done to Dumbledore and put him in detention. Oh well, there was always time for that, the only problem was he had no intention of going through with one. Personally Harry only half regretted what he had done.

Dumbledore had no right to touch him especially after the articles and what he'd described the Dursleys, but he accepted it was still rash even if personally Harry was delighted at having one of those moments where he could get rid of some of his frustrations by punching it.

He doubted Dumbledore would give him another chance like it again; wizards didn't like physical violence, and they also liked it even less if they were on the receiving end, which was how Harry knew the old man would be keeping a fair distance from now on.

As he walked through the silent corridors, guessing the rest of the school were in their common rooms, Harry reflected that he didn't want to be anywhere near the Gryffindors right now. The oath might have been made, but there were quite a few people in that house he would rather ignore right now.

In any case, he needed a place to think, a place to plan where he knew he would be alone and had the solitude to mentally go through everything he knew so far, and what he would need to do to get through this mess. Gryffindor Tower would provide the opposite environment right now, they were likely partying, waiting for him to turn up, and judging from Ron's expression earlier, there was going to be an argument waiting for him, and truth be told, he wasn't in the mood for one of the youngest Weasley boy's stupid tantrums.

Dumbledore wasn't going to help, or he would but it would come at a high price, and the stupid teachers weren't worth going to. He knew that from experience.

And besides, Harry had never felt comfortable being in one place without predetermined places to hide. It was a leftover from the foster home when he had been trying to hide some of the things he had stolen; with so many kids in the place and the adults attending the kids, it had been hard to hide anything long term, and he still had bad memories when someone had nearly found a few pieces of jewellery he'd stolen.

Instead, he decided to camp out in one of the abandoned classrooms, maybe one of the ones nearest to the Quidditch changing rooms so he would have access to the bathroom and the shower stalls. And he did have the right resources to staying there long term.

Slipping the Marauder's map out of his pocket once he was out of sight of any of the portraits, Harry studied the route for a moment while he tried to find a path to lead him towards the Gryffindor Tower so then Dumbledore would assume he had gone there without working out until it was far too late when his spies reported Harry hadn't arrived, but that wasn't a problem for now.

After studying the map for a few minutes, Harry nodded in satisfaction when he found a decent route.


Just in case anyone goes mad and abuses me in a review about Dumbledore getting punched by Harry, the old man did ask for it.