It was easier for Harry to watch Cedric's turn at his dragon than think about all the other things that laid claim to his attention. His golden egg was tucked neatly under his left arm, quite heavy and still uncomfortably hot, but the least of his concerns right now.

He'd grab his Time-Turner off Professor McGonagall the next moment he saw her, for one thing.

And another.

Delores Umbridge. He hadn't exactly avoided thinking about her, through these last four years of his second chance, but…she was too complex of a problem to sort out with a snap of his fingers. She hated non-humans with a passion. She tortured children! It wasn't the kind of thing you could just forget, but he couldn't just wave his magic wand and vanish…

Bloody Umbridge, the thought intruded.

She was already in the school. She was in charge of Fleur's safety, for Merlin's sake, in the second task! And his, he remembered with a twitch. She hated them equally, at a guess, although perhaps with Harry it was more personal…

He nibbled his lip even as the cool November air teased at his sweat-stained forehead and the damp flyaway hair that had struggled free of his own attempts to keep it out of the dragon fire. Too short for a full ponytail– that odd phrasing of Ron's, Harry's hair seeming "not too girly" rang oddly loud in his memory – Harry had somewhat braided the top half of his hair into a pathetic attempt at a plait, the better to catch the fly-aways with.

Now, after the flying and the wind whipping, and the sweating and sudden changes in temperature and direction – because of the dragon – Harry's hair was the worst kind of birds'-nest, and he pulled the leather band that had tried to hold it all in with a tug.

He knew without looking that his hair had exploded on his head, in the most traditional of Potter legacies, but Fleur's exhausted smirk provided him proof he didn't need.

But back to the—Merlin, there was too much to sum up. Out of Hogwarts, she'd actively persecuted muggleborn. Real people had died because of her, not that he knew their names, but Azkaban was so often a death sentence.

Not to mention the Snatchers, the Dementor's Kisses…

She separated families. Harry couldn't overstate her probable influence on the media coverage and Ministry direction under Voldemort's reign. That bloody werewolf bill, plus who knows what else she got up to that hadn't directly affected Harry.

He fixed his eyes back on Cedric, who had walked boldly out of the red tent and into the arena, washed in golden light, and who was now eyeing the dragon with obvious trepidation. The Welsh Green was large, vibrant, blinding; the flames were sizzling orange and the magic blazed hot.

Harry shook off his chill with resolve.

So: Umbridge was a large problem for another time. He shoved the thought of her to one side.

He, Fleur, and Viktor all leaned against a temporary wooden fence that had been erected, closer to the champion's tent than the judge's table but away from the spectator stands.

The rough wood was sturdy enough, not conjured up but real logs charmed into place, and to his left, an equally exhausted Fleur was half-draped over the thing.

The topmost railing seemed to bear all her weight: her almost-liquid body seemed to be propped up only by the crude wood and her chin in her hand. Her posture, and the flickers of firelight and shadow, hid for an instant her somewhat ash-covered hair. A foot further on, Viktor also leant on the railing, one hip apparently holding him upright while his crossed arms supported up the rest of him through sheer habit. There was a swathe of white bandaging wrapped around his head.

"Made it through," Harry muttered to them both, less congratulations and more acknowledgment that they'd survived.

Too tired to reply, Viktor nodded. Fleur raised her eyebrows once.

In the dark around them, something caught the audience's attention, and muttering spread like ripples in a pond. Harry looked back at Cedric again. He was chanting something.

While they waited for the action to start, whether that would be Cedric's wandwork or the dragon sensing the threat approaching, Harry felt his muscles start to shake with a delayed response even as he finally started to gasp the cool air.

The judges muttered to each other.

Harry sniffed. There was an odd smell in the air – not him, the flames hadn't licked him, but it was bitter, acid, cloying on the tongue and his survival instincts had barely had a moment to breathe before he found himself twitching alert, trying to source this odd, unusual scent.

Again, Harry inhaled. This time it was a series of deep, slow – as slow as he could get right now – breaths at about the same time Cedric's wand started spitting out magic-bleed.

"Ah," a croaking murmur came from his left. "Zat is me."

"Huh?"

With a half-hearted intention of straightening herself up, Fleur made a sound of repressed frustration and cast a soft pinkish air-freshening charm.

As she lifted her head from her left hand with a visible effort, Harry saw her head in full for the first time since his task. Fleur's pale hair caught the firelight, hanging bedraggled but still beautiful in uneven clumps above her shoulders, and it took Harry a few beats to realise that she'd completely lost her braid. And gained a haircut.

Harry blinked at it again, before turning his gaze back to Cedric as if he'd seen Fleur in a state of undress. Awkward.

"You guys alright?" Harry finally muttered, just as Cedric finished conjuring up a brown cow to stand before him.

"Da." Viktor caught his gaze. "Ah, the eye? This is nothing. A sharp stone caught up in the vind of the dragonvings. It vill heal. I have not had the near misses of some." Harry twitched a little at how blasé he was being about such a close call with blindness; it was more than an inconvenience to a quidditch professional!

And Harry should know!

As Viktor nodded at Fleur, her face settled into drawn lines, lips thinning.

"You also did not face zee 'Ungarian 'Orntail!" Fleur scoffed.

"Ooh," Harry flinched in sympathy. "Did it get you?"

"…Do you not see my 'air?!"

Harry shrugged a shoulder, still staring at Cedric, who was sending his cow toddling anti-clockwise around the arena edge. He wondered briefly if there was any arithmantic principle to the choice. "Hair grows back; dragon flame hurts like hell and never heals, or so I've been told. I mean, you can't be too bad since the healers let you out, but still…?"

Slightly appeased, the taller girl settled down again, swapping her wand to the off-hand so that her chin could settle comfortably into the palm of her right. Harry belatedly noticed that her cheekbones were a tad sharper than usual, and her fingers were curved like talons.

Ah. The Veela was closer to the surface than he'd assumed. And she was full Veela, she'd said…

"Nozzing zat will not return," Fleur finally ground out.

"Huh," Harry nodded. "Good, I guess."

They were quiet for a bit, while Cedric's huge dragon tried to keep both him and the cow in its view, and Bagman shouted a bit more, eliciting screams and shouts from the crowd until Harry spoke again.

"How's the scoring?"

Fleur's lip curled back as she spoke, as dismissive as Harry had ever heard her. "'Orrible. Our two are biased towards zeir own champions. And zee British ones? Zat pink lady 'ates everybody and your 'Eadmaster Dumbledore is too kind."

Viktor grunted in agreement.

Harry huffed, and felt his body tilt forward a little to let the fence bear more of his exhausted weight. "About as expected then."

They all three turned to look back at Cedric, who was now scampering his own way around the arena, one knee bleeding from a fall.

Harry cast a tempus to check the time again and settled in to wait for the end of the long, long school day.


It was well past normal curfew time when the Hogwarts students were finally ferried into their dormitories, prefects threatening loss of points and untold detentions if people didn't calm down and get to sleep.

It didn't work that well, as far as Harry's experience went.

Ron and Seamus were all over him, even after he'd changed into pajamas and sat in his bedcovers, all the reassuring weights once more where they should be.

"—and then you did that thing with the—"

"—can't believe you used a wooden broom, mate,—"

"—but you were so fast!"

"I heard Charlie say once that while the Horntails are the menace of the air, Chinese Fireballs are the most dangerous dragons on the ground—"

"—bloody disillusionment charm as a fourth ye

"—all in the neck, he say—"

Although he still couldn't see them, Harry could hear their voices move around the room as they acted out, relived what Harry had done on the broomstick?! There were sounds of someone sketching madly from over where Dean's bed was, leaving the wonderful, amazing Neville as the only kind of normal wizard in the whole room.

Unfortunately for the grumpy Crow, who'd had his head peacefully tucked under his wing right up until the boys stampeded in, the room was raucous. Ever now and then his grumpy caws added to the chaos in the dormitory.

Subtly, while Ron was blathering on about "—and then we saw you go wheeee-oooh, like that, an—" and Seamus was muttering something about the temperature of dragon-breath, Neville shuffled closer to Harry.

Crow cawed.

"—something about Chinese-style snake-like shape, I think, mak—"

Neville spoke quietly next to Harry's ear. "You're certain you're alright then, yeah?"

Harry jumped a bit, causing Crookshanks to miaow a complaint from his pillow. He patted at the silken blindfold that once more sat over his eyes and then raised his unmarked arms to Nev to inspect. "Promise. Nothing injured except perhaps my forearms are a little sore. Just muscle pain, I promise. From over-gripping, you know. It was probably the cornering."

Harry's arms might potentially be shaking. Just a tiny little bit.

"You must be exhausted!"

Harry's hands moved up to knead gently at the tension in his temples, to press firmly above his brows, and stifled a yawn as he did so. "Oh, yeah. Shattered. I don't recommend dragon-wrangling. Not at all. Merlin, but I'm beat!"

It was true. The adrenaline was draining from him like slow poison, and all the delayed exhaustion was rushing to the fore. Physically, at any rate.

"—nd I bet Krum was amazed at your flying, Harry! Do you reckon any scouts will—"

Crow audibly snapped his wings a few times, the tiny sounds of him hopping away from Seamus reaching Harry's ears.

"—ruddy great balls of fire – not yours, the dragon's, I mean – so then—"

Neville chuckled. "They do go on a bit, yeah?"

Harry snorted. "Just a bit. Almost like they haven't lived with me for the last four years or anything."

"Hey!" Nev teased, "You're their new hero!"

Harry cringed. "Great Godric, I hope not."

"Oh that's right, you found out about the club."

It sounded like Neville sniggered again, from the quiet sounds that made it through the loud thud of Seamus' feet trying and failing jump over someone's trunk. There was a loud crash. Crow screamed this time. Seamus swore. Ron kept talking.

"—bet the Cannons would have you, actually, but I s'pose you're more interested in school for the time being, at any r—"

"Hey," the standing boy said more seriously. "But for reals, you're alright Harry, yeah?"

"I will be," he promised. "I just need some sleep. Some time. Y'know."

There were moments when Harry wished that Ron, Hermione and he were still the Golden Trio. Times when he wouldn't mind giving up even Neville and Draco and Benny to be with his old friends again. Then Nev would go ahead and have Harry's back somehow, so solidly, so reliably, that Harry knew he wouldn't give him up for anything in the world.

Merlin only knew what magic he managed, but Neville harried the other boys to bed, voices quiet, the room calm again.

Harry hadn't followed quite how it happened, but within a minute or two, max, he found himself tucked into bed, in a peaceful, calm room. The bedcurtains were drawn around all five beds. The space became dark, still, and peaceful enough even for Crookshanks and Crow, who was sleeping once more on Harry's bedhead.

On his pillow, Crookshanks poked at Harry's face with one gentle paw, slightly startling him.

"Oh yeah. No, it wasn't it bad as it could have been, but they definitely didn't realise the severity of the danger," Harry told him, his voice as quiet as he could make it.

From the tiny rustling sounds of cotton and fur, Crookshanks flicked forward a curious ear.

"Totally! Viktor almost lost an eye, which could have spelled the end of his sporting career. He was weirdly blasé about it too, stray stone or not. And Fleur was set alight by dragon flame! Her long hair must have been trailing behind her or something, but she didn't seem to realise how close she came to permanent damage! She's rather pissy about her hair damage, and from what I know of her, probably upset that people will judge her for being upset about her looks. Which, I mean…would be normal, but still…Girls. They're complicated. And besides, Madam Pomfrey might say Cedric will be fine, but she hadn't let him out of the Hospital Wing yet, last I heard, either!"

Surprisingly close to Harry's ear, Crookshanks snuffled encouragingly in Harry's general direction.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know. I know. But they're just kids, you know? And it gets me angry that people are throwing them into situations like this when they don't know – don't really know – what they're risking."

Curling himself up slightly and rolling from his face to face his kneazle, Harry tugged gently at his firmly tied blindfold and blinked rapidly within it. "Well, obviously it's different for me. For one thing, I'm kind of used to it. And also, I'm trying to save…things. Well, it's not so much the world or anything, maybe Britain? Local magi? Hogwarts? Sure, it's bigger than just wanting 'fame' and the prize-money. But it's nothing impressive: anyone would do it if they knew what I knew. I just have to face what's in front of me, you know?"

Crookshanks' fluffy tail twitched its way under Harry's nose, and he stifled the hint of a sneeze.

"And I've got you guys this time."

There were soft rustling sounds as Harry pulled up his sheet and let his body sink into the delicious softness. "I'm not really searching out trouble." A pause. "At least Mr Lloyd-Elliot was great today. Draco, too. And Luna and Nev and Hermione go without saying."

His pillow was warming up, from the body heat of Harry and Crookshanks, and the familiar warm scents of clean sheets, of Crookshanks and Crow, and good Hogwarts' stone seemed to embrace him.

"Did I really see Kreacher running around underneath the audience stands, holding up that blasted mirror so that Sirius and Remus could watch?"

A meow.

"Merlin! I'd hoped I was wrong. I'll have to contact them tomorrow. Remind me, will you?"

Harry's voice murmured quieter and quieter. He was exhausted. All his body wanted to do was lie here, in stillness, and wait for the very last of the tension and energy to leave his body. Then, Harry could safely fall asleep and stay that way until Tuesday, at the very earliest.

Unfortunately, his brain was still racing a mile a minute. The time ticked past slowly.

Around him, the room had sunk into the peace of sleep. Dean was snoring softly. Ron, louder. Seamus had stopped muttering to himself and he could hear Neville's heavy, sleeping breath from where he lay.

"I guess it's time then, yeah?" Harry asked his great cat, and heaved himself into a sitting position with only a minor scream from his muscles. "Best get up then, I suppose," he added with fake cheer. "You're welcome to come of course. I'll Turn back the full eight hours, I think. Everyone will know I'm stuck in the Champions' Tent at that time if anything goes wrong."

He dug into the neckline of his nightclothes, tapped his mokeskin pouch to the left for a bit, and pulled out the slender golden chain he'd reclaimed from Professor McGonagall at the very first moment.

"Mind your head, Crookshanks," Harry warned, as he leaned over to thread the chain over the kneazle's head too. "Have I got you? It's hard to tell. Hold on then," and then it was a matter of moments to fling his Invisibility Cloak over both of them, and spin the little hourglass over eight times, disappearing from where he lay.


When the world had stopped spinning, Harry found himself alone but for Crookshanks in his own dorm room just after four o'clock earlier that day. And a slightly unhappy Crow.

He took off the Cloak hood with care.

"Hey, bud—mmph!" His greeting was interrupted by the pressing sensation of Crookshanks' claws digging into Harry's inner thigh, and he very carefully reached out to unhook the razer-sharp weapons from his skin. At least he'd been smart enough not to Turn with the kneazle sitting on his lap, but one paw hurt quite enough!

Crow chattered his beak at him, unimpressed, but deigned to flutter down to sit on Harry's head, preening at his wild hair affectionately. Harry reached up absently to let Crow nibble his finger affectionately before a muscle in his shoulder twinged and he had to straighten up gingerly again. "Sorry, muscle pain."

The room felt viscerally empty, felt cool to Harry's skin as it lacked the life and warmth of living wizards, and Harry cocked an ear carefully for noises on the stairs.

"Must be mid-lockdown," Harry muttered, and from the way that Crookshanks' tail whipped past his elbow, the kneazle was either agreeing with him or still very unhappy about the Time-Turning experience. "All in the common room, do you think?"

Scrambling up from his bed very carefully, Harry's ears were listening desperately for any sounds of…anyone, really. He'd checked his map before, but the twins and Lee had been staying in their own dorm room, when he'd looked from the Champion's tent. Everyone else was presumably down in the Gryffindor common room, angry, confused and rumour-mongering while aurors ran all over the school.

Another obstacle for him, Harry made a mental note. Crow pecked his ear.

More strongly than he had in weeks, Harry wished he could use his eyes inside Hogwarts, but he wasn't that good yet and he wasn't going to risk his vision for some convenience.

"I know, I know," he muttered. "I'll work round it."

Fortunately, it was easy to sneak rapidly down into the depths of his magnificent trunk, where he could whip off the blindfold, get dressed again in daytime clothes, and grab a hold of his broom. The light of his mage-sight was uncomfortably bright but manageable down here, just, in the extended space that was somehow removed from the magic of Hogwarts.

"Not that one," Harry told Crookshanks, who was nosing around the Firebolt. "In fact…yeah. I'll leave that one on the bed. I'll use this."

A mreow.

"Well, I've got to use the Firebolt for the Task, don't I? Thank Merlin the Nimbus never had that confrontation with the Whomping Willow this timeline. Bloody hell. The things I don't plan in advance."

A tiny shiver ran its way down his spine before Harry shook the feeling off with a grimace. "I thought I was getting better at the forward planning, damn it!"

He didn't know how long the dorm had – would – remain empty, so it took him only five minutes to organise himself in the middle of the empty space: the broomstick floating at waist-height, Crookshanks already on its handle, his invisibility Cloak on, and then Harry caught himself with a few familiar spells.

There was a wash of colour in front of his eyes, despite the blindfold; when the magic worked on your eyes a silken barrier in front of them didn't do much, but at least Hogwarts herself didn't blind him.

Then, before Harry knew it, he was awkwardly feeling his way up the dorm room walls, hands on stone and glass, with Crow cawing out directions from where he sat in the little owl-window. Crookshanks only complained a little bit as Harry's robes fell forward and ruffled the kneazle's perfect fur.

Then he was popping through the owl-window, whispering goodbye to Crow, and whipping his blindfold off to drift subtly through the air off the Hogwarts grounds. Harry was ready to do the spellwork for the real task of the day.

"Ruddy horcruxes, eh?"