"Meow," Harry murmured as he kneeled before the kitten. It was small, smaller than it should be.

Harry gently ran his hand along the kitten's black hair. It wasn't soft. At least, it wasn't as soft as a kitten is supposed to be. Yet Harry still ran his hand along its back. It wasn't the softness that Harry desired, for that he could simply cover himself with blankets in bed.

Harry could feel how gentle the kitten's body was, it wasn't like his own. He was hale and hearty. But the kitten looked torn, one foot with the living, the other in the clouds.

The kitten wasn't magical… or special… or important in any way whatsoever. It was simply a kitten, one that could be found just about anywhere. Weakly, it raised its head from the ground to stare Harry in the eye.

Harry felt a small jolt as the kitten stared into his eyes. The kitten couldn't maintain such a taxing endeavor for long and its head gently fell back to the ground.

"Where's your mum, little kitten?" Harry asked after a moment before looking around. He hoped he wasn't the reason the kitten's mother was gone. He hoped he hadn't scared her off. He had once heard something about never touching baby birds because if you did, their mother would abandon them. Was it the same for cats?

The black kitten sighed, almost as if it could understand the boy in front of it; though it surely could not.

"Are you sad, little kitten? Is your mum gone, is that why you're sad?" Harry asked, finally sitting down and crossing his legs.

The kitten gave no response, for it was only a kitten. But the imagination of a child is stronger than what reality presents as fact.

Taking the kitten's silence for a response, Harry continued. "She is, isn't she? I'm sorry, kitten… You're all alone then?" He asked quietly as he moved onto its ears. Once again, the kitten made no move to respond.

"I understand. I think… we're very alike, aren't we, little kitten? We even have the same hair!" Harry exclaimed with a short giggle. "Though… I still have my mum… I-" Harry cut himself off not allowing himself to finish the thought.

Harry remained quiet as he felt the kitten's heartbeat. It was proof that it was alive, that it was still fighting, that it hadn't given up. Every living creature had a heart, or so Harry believed. Without one, one could not live. They could not move, they could not cast magic, they could not do anything that Harry so greatly loved. Without a heart, one was no different from the trees and grass that surrounded him.

There wasn't anything wrong with being grass or being a tree. They all had their purpose, but Harry wasn't so sure it was a purpose that he would want to have.

Grass is very similar to muggles, isn't it? Harry wondered. There are thousands and thousands of blades of grass but even with so many, they are bound by the wind. There are thousands and thousands of muggles and yet they are bound by magic; however, they cannot cast it.

Why is that? Is it the natural way of the world? Is there such a thing that binds wizards? Harry shuddered at the thought.

Harry's soft smile grew excited as he came up with an idea. "Perhaps you would like to live with us? Yes! Mama would say yes, I know she would!" Harry exclaimed as he stood up and dusted himself off.

In all of his daydreaming and child's imagination, he hadn't seen what was really right in front of him. He hadn't seen the crustiness, the lack of response when he touched it, the maggots and worms-

"Stay here, little kitten. I'll be right back!" Harry shouted as he ran off. The kitten hadn't even the strength to watch the boy run off, its eyelids were already so heavy…

Even in its simplistic, animal mind, it recognized the warmth the boy had given it. Its end wasn't so bad, because at least it had met him…

…

Blue eyes, crinkled by a smile. Silver hair that danced past his eyes. Who was this? Harry watched captivated. He reached forward to grab the magical hair. What would it feel like? His hands were only a few inches from it now. A teasing laugh egged him on as the hair continued to float just out of reach. He was-

…

On the lowest floor, in the Pureblood wing of Gryffindor Tower, was a hallway. At the end of this hallway was the largest room of Gryffindor tower. Despite the room being the coldest of the tower, a boy lay with his clothes soaked with sweat. "What did you…" he murmured.

Suddenly the boy shot awake with a flurry of deep, gasping breaths. He looked around, panicked, his wand was held firmly in his hand. There was nothing there, he quickly realized. Harry swiveled his legs out of the bed, eager to have his feet on the cold, stone floor. He felt for his pulse as he slowly calmed down.

Why had he dreamed of that day? Why now? He hadn't thought of it in so long… Why did it appear in his dreams, why now? Harry slowly stood, making sure his legs were strong and balanced, before walking to the window. He gazed across the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry's eyes fluttered across the grounds as he searched through the scrub and trees and tall grass.

With a sigh, Harry turned away and sat on the window ledge looking back, deep into his dark room. It was still early in the morning, the moon hung high in the sky. He leaned his head back against the window as he thought back to the dream.

He had not seen what happened afterward, what happened when he returned to the kitten. That was not always the case. Sometimes he saw the entire day's events, sometimes only what happened later, sometimes he saw only specific moments, frozen in time…

Harry looked away from the window, towards the other side of his room. A large mirror hung, in which Harry could just barely make out his reflection.

Harry studied his appearance for a moment, detesting it. Like his family, he was naturally pale with just a hint of freckles on his thin nose. His pale skin was only highlighted by the light provided by the moon. His hair was a dark brown, or perhaps a light black, and he had let it grow out a bit in recent years so that it hung just past his ears. It was thick but had just a bit of a wave in it that he pushed off to the sides of his face.

Harry finally turned from the mirror and stood from the window before sweeping out of his room. When he awoke from such dreams he seemed never able to go to sleep again, not that he would want to.

Harry made his way through the unlit castle, nodding to a Slytherin prefect as he passed by. He was almost surprised that it was not Margery with how much he has been seeing her recently. Eventually, he found his way to the grounds of Hogwarts and marched further out.

His thoughts began to race as he walked into the crisp morning atmosphere. He thought of the past, the future, his house, and the Triwizard Tournament. He thought of his preparation and what he still needed to do.

Scheming and plotting were well and good but raw power and ability were also important. Harry would need both should he be entered into the Triwizard Tournament as its champion, which he would be.

The challengers would be tough. A safe assumption is that they are equal matches for him, at the very least, the challenger from Durmstrang would be. Harry held no delusions of his ability. He could not match Dumbledore, for instance. Not yet at least. Harry was talented. He had been called a prodigy by many who meant it and many who did not. But that does not mean anything if you are up against students as good, if not better than yourself. Which left the difference to strategy, and training. Strategy would come later when there was more he knew and more he could do. When there was more he could learn through official and unofficial means.

Cheating was practically as much a part of the tournament as was the magical number three. Harry had no problem with cheating if it meant he would win and neither would his competitors. But as the great poet, Robert Burns, once said, "the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry."

Once his plan borne from cheating and advanced preparation inevitably got derailed, all he would be left with would be his training and his wand. Harry knew that ultimately, that's where the winner of the Triwizard Tournament would be decided.

Harry made his way to the edge of the forbidden forest before beginning. There was not much one could do to increase their magical power besides practice and repetition. Your magical power didn't exactly grow but your ability to cast increasingly complex magicks became easier and more instinctual.

It was similar to learning of any other kind. Concepts that once seemed impossible became basic knowledge which was used to learn even more advanced material. While the analogy wasn't exactly one-to-one it is not completely terrible.

Harry took a deep breath as the trees began to rustle with excitement around him.

…

In a dark, unlit classroom, far from the hustle and bustle of the main Hogwarts hallways, two students whispered.

"I am glad you came to me with this. You should feel safe in your own house and if you cannot then something is wrong." Harry spoke sincerely as he put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I do not want to get anyone into trouble, Potter. But-"

"I understand, you do not have to worry. Lady Margery is incredibly busy, as are her other prefects. It is only natural that they might miss something or not be able to devote their entire attention to an issue so obviously important. But I am here for you just as much as she is." Harry continued, sympathetically.

The ginger smiled almost worriedly as she nodded slowly. "I am not completely naive... I know I shouldn't have told anyone outside of Slytherin about this, least of all you. But I am afraid of what could happen or what wouldn't happen if I spoke to someone else. Please just, whatever you decide to do, don't use my name. I'll deny it all." The ginger requested of him.

Harry nodded in agreement after only a moment of hesitation. Without Ginny Weasley's name attached, the information wasn't worth all that much. There was not much Harry could or would do to pressure her either. Not with so many Weasleys in his own house.

Harry waited a few minutes once she left the empty classroom buried within Hogwarts before leaving himself.

Abuse of power was a big no-no at Hogwarts, especially abuse of power that was sexual in nature. Of course, that was only for the abuse that got paid attention to.

If it was to a sufficient degree, it could remove a prefect and sometimes even a Headboy or Headgirl from power. Depending on what it was and more importantly, who it was, the government might get involved. It had destroyed Headboys and Headgirls in the past and could precipitate transfers of said titles to other houses.

So why would such a potentially golden opportunity fall into Harry's lap the moment when he needed one? Ginny might not be naive but neither was Harry.

Prefects abusing their power in such a way was not entirely implausible. But Margery not knowing about it? That was surprising… and suspicious. If it were true, Margery would know about it long before Harry would and she would stop it or, as Ginny had been afraid of, cover it up.

And yet, he had found out anyway. Not through various nondescript means but a Pureblood witch in the very House.

False accusations could also be deadly to a Headboy. Was that what this was? Bait for Harry to slop up and take to Dumbledore? Surely Margery did not think he was that dense.

"Harry!" A high-pitched voice called out from behind him.

"Euphemia." Harry smiled towards his littlest sister as she came to him. He recognized the look in her eyes the moment he saw her. She wanted something.

"Harry… I have a favor to ask," she started slowly, not looking into her brother's eyes.

"Oh? And what's that?" Harry complied as he continued his walk back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Well you see, I was hoping you might take me to Hogsmeade today…"

Harry snorted at his sister's method of asking him. "Did you not go over summer with mum? What would we do there?" Harry asked.

"Yeah but that was when I was still a child. Now I am a Hogwarts student. We could shop or drink some butterbeer, oh please can't we?" She pleaded once again, now looking wide-eyed up at her brother.

"I suppose paying for you would also be part of the favor, correct?" Harry wanted to confirm.

Euphemia nodded once, a large, toothy smile spread on her face with no trace of an ounce of guilt or shame.

Harry sighed as they entered Gryffindor tower. "Go ask your sister if she wants to come, we will leave in a minute," Harry instructed.

Euphemia seemed to radiate with excitement as she ran off to find Flora. Harry honestly could not understand why she was so excited about it. She had been to the town multiple times already. He couldn't remember ever being that excited to go.

"What has got her so wound up?" Lyra asked, not looking up from her book as he came closer to where she sat.

"Excited to go to Hogsmeade," Harry answered, still feeling slightly confused.

Lyra smiled and nodded as if that explained everything.

Harry sat at Lyra's table as he waited for his sisters to come. After a few minutes, Harry began to close his eyes so he could pretend to be asleep. But something was amiss. Someone was staring at him. In the corner of the room, there was a group of girls too silent, too tense.

"Harry…" Euphemia whined as she stomped over to him.

Harry hid his irritation when she returned alone. "All by yourself? That's okay, she is probably busy with her own things today." Harry reassured his sister that it was not her fault. As he stared at his sister, he noticed who had been staring at him. Lucy Hurst, the sixth year.

"Come on, let's go," Harry said before standing and making his way to the portrait. A rumple of paper and a book being closed came from behind him.

Harry turned and shot Lyra an odd glance.

"Well, of course, I am coming too." Lyra responded as she pushed past Harry.

Euphemia stared up at Harry wide-eyed, perhaps trying to get him to do something. Harry merely shrugged as he followed Lyra out. A small huff of irritation was heard from behind him.

The trio made their way through Hogwarts with little conversation. With Euphemia, who was too angry to try and start a conversation, they were left in silence.

It was only when they reached the bridge to Hogwarts did Lyra speak up. "What are we going to do?" She asked seriously.

"Huh? Who says we are going to do anything? Harry and I are-"

"Have you heard something recently?" Harry asked.

Lyra remained quiet for a moment, she seemed hesitant to answer. "No, not really. But I have seen something. Angelina Johnson and Fred Weasley together. There is no reason for them to be acquainted, especially after what has happened…"

Harry pondered her words. Fred, at least, would know better than to associate with her…

"You know I'm still here, right?" Euphemia cut in at that moment.

Harry turned to look at her. "Yes, how could I ever miss you?" Harry asked his sister before his eyes slid off the side of the bridge. He watched the water rush below it. It was beginning to turn cold. There would be no more warm days of sun and summer.

"Lucy Hurst, the sixth year, was staring at me, perhaps she has something she wishes to tell me." Harry held up a hand, interrupting Lyra from whatever crude comment she was about to make.

"I know the difference between the look of teenaged girls and a look of fear," Harry told her.

"Would they really be so stupid as to try something?" Lyra asked, baffled at the idea.

"I would not put it past them. The Weasley twins have always been more daring than intelligent." Harry answered, looking back at Lyra.

"And Frank Fawley? Wilkes?"

"Perhaps… I just do not see what any of them would have to gain with this half-baked plan of theirs…" Harry responded as he thought over the possibilities.

Perhaps they would take him and somehow manage to force him to give up Headboy to them, then what? They could humiliate and beat him so thoroughly that it would cripple anyone else, but they wouldn't kill him. Not even they would dare do such a thing. Their heads would roll regardless of their reasons.

Harry did not care if he got humiliated, he would make sure they all burned with him if he went up in flames.

All of that risk and for what? Two years with the title? Two years, full of strife and conflict. Two years in which Harry's siblings could make their lives as painful as possible. Frank Fawley had no younger siblings and the Weasleys had just the one in Gryffindor. From what Harry understood of Ron, he was someone with lofty ideals but one who lacked the backbone to properly hold them up. Of course, that all hinged on the possibility of their plan working out perfectly. Which, plans rarely did.

"Temporary satisfaction, perhaps. The twins seem the type to chase after it especially." Lyra offered.

Harry nodded, considering her idea.

"We're here." Euphemia announced, turning to face the pair trailing behind her, as they entered Hogsmeade. It was clear from her tone that she was not pleased.

Harry put on a smile as he glanced between the two girls. "What is first then?" He asked his sister. Euphemia's face brightened at her brother's words and she turned back around to face Hogsmeade.

"Honeydukes, of course." Euphemia responded, just barely polite enough to leave out the word "obviously."

"Obviously." Harry was there to say it for her.

"Honeydukes? I seem to remember someone saying I was getting quite large-"

"Then don't come!" Euphemia exclaimed, not even sparing a glance at Lyra as she rushed forward.

"She used to love me. What did you tell her?" Lyra accused, glaring at Harry, before trailing after the girl.

Harry's smile fell as he was left the furthest behind in the group. If the Weasleys tried something, they would regret it.

…

"My lord. My lady." The waitress addressed with a small curtsy as she placed three butterbeers onto the table.

"Are you sure you don't have anywhere else to be?" Euphemia asked Lyra with large eyes as she took her cup of butterbeer.

"Even after I bought you all of that candy? You should be more grateful to your big sister." Lyra admonished lightly.

"I adore my older sister, who you are not." Euphemia countered with a smirk.

"Yes well, I am still your cousin. You should be more respectful to your family." Lyra continued, almost bitter.

Harry smiled at their banter. Lyra's earlier words were correct. Euphemia used to worship her just as much as she worshipped Harry. Perhaps she was just going through a phase. Harry could tell Euphemia was enjoying the arguments with Lyra. As could Lyra.

"Do you think I would get chosen if I entered the tournament, Harry?" Euphemia asked, pointedly ignoring Lyra now.

"I am not sure. I suppose that would be up to the cup." Harry replied as he took a sip of his butterbeer.

"The tournament is no place for ickle children like you I'm afraid. Best to know your limits, Euphemia." Lyra mocked.

Whatever restraint Euphemia had shown by ignoring Lyra immediately evaporated as the two began squabbling once again.

In the back of the bar, Harry suddenly realized he recognized someone. "Excuse me for a moment," he said to the girls who barely even turned away from their bickering to register his words.

Harry made his way over in as nondescript of a way as he could. "Lucy." He said simply.

"Harry." She whispered before wrapping her arms around him.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Harry asked gently. He looked around to see if anyone was watching or listening. He couldn't see anyone but that did not mean no one was there, he knew that better than anyone.

"I'm fine but Harry, you're not, Fred and George, I think they mean to try something. I'm worried." Lucy whispered after releasing him. Harry watched her closely, she did not seem to be lying.

…

Flashes of light and sounds of destruction erupted every few seconds as the two brothers fought. Neither spoke, instead, they let their wands do the speaking for them. And what their wands said was that they hated each other.

Curses that would kill a Muggle instantly were flung without hesitation, transfiguration more advanced than many Hogwarts post-graduates, any and every tool in the brothers' disposal. At least, one of the brothers.

The solid grey dueling room exploded into pieces before quickly healing back together as if nothing at all had occurred.

Inevitably, one brother lost.

Harry stood off to the side of the room as he waited patiently for Jack to recover. He lay on the ground motionless from whichever of the numerous curses that Harry had cast hit him.

"Do you never tire of losing, Jack? Does it not bother you?" Harry asked eventually. Jack was either too tired or too weak to respond.

"Do you think you will ever be able to match up against Gryffindor like this, let alone father and I?" Harry continued, moving closer to his brother's limp body.

Jack was not quite so defeated as Harry must have assumed. With a guttural cry of rage, he leaped up at his brother and tackled him to the ground.

He wailed on Harry with his fists, each one coming down harder and faster than the last yet each one doing less and less harm. Harry made no move to protect himself or his face from the anger of his brother.

Eventually, his fists stopped and Harry spoke. "Tell me how it feels, Jack, to be right on top of your enemy and still, you are unable to hurt him, to be so weak?" Harry taunted.

"You are not my enemy," Jack said breathlessly as he rolled off his brother.

"Oh? Your actions disagree, little brother. All the same, everyone is your enemy if you wish to be strong if you wish to succeed. I am, Father is, everyone." Harry told him as he stood back up, standing over Jack.

"That is not true, Harry. That is just how you view the world, even as children you viewed us as your enemies, didn't you?" Jack accused quietly, so quietly that it seemed as if it was not what he meant to say at all. He did not look up at his brother but remained on the ground.

Slowly, Jack shook his head. "No, that is not how I will live my life. Your enemies are only those who oppose you," he spoke quietly, knowing his argument would fall on deaf ears.

Harry studied his brother for a moment. "No?" He asked as he raised his wand once again. "That's very honorable of you, I suppose." Jack shot into the air, his body hanging limply from the invisible iron grip around his left leg.

"Set me down!" Jack screamed as he flung around wildly. Harry's head tilted in confusion as he stared up at his brother. "Why should I, you are a wizard, the same as me. You have all the tools I have, you should be able to free yourself." Harry told him before easing Jack higher into the air.

"You say I am not your enemy and yet here I stand making you bow to my will. What will you do, little brother?" Harry asked.

The brothers were in a walled room, no larger than a few classrooms stacked wide and tall. Harry could only raise Jack as high as the room allowed but it would be high enough to scare him.

"You are insane, Harry! Let me down! Help!" Jack called out to no avail. The room was soundproofed and there was no one else besides them in it. Just to be safe, Harry sent a silent shock through his spell before speaking.

"You will not always have someone to come save you. You must be able to rely only on yourself for every situation. To rely on others is to weaken yourself and the Potters are not weak. You know, Jack, I wonder… What would Father say if he were here now, to see you, his prized son reduced to this? He would agree with me, you know? He might even join me…" Harry trailed off with a thoughtful expression.

"But worry not, I will make a Potter of you yet!" Harry exclaimed passionately.

Jack remained mute and Harry felt pressure against his spell. Harry smiled slightly, Jack was fighting back, it would take more than that though.

"Fighting my spell directly, a curious approach… Do you think you can overpower me, your oldest brother?" Harry asked, curious.

"You are not my brother." Jack bit out with no passion, he was focused only on fighting Harry's spell. Jack began to slowly lower from the ceiling, he was beginning to overpower Harry.

Harry frowned at Jack's words but ignored them in favor of putting more effort and concentration into the spell. Just as he began to focus more heavily on keeping Jack fixed in place, his neck began to tingle. Harry jumped away just in time for an explosion to go off right where he was standing. Harry was quick to erect a shield charm that protected him from Jack's subsequent spell.

"You know-"

Harry's eyes widened, only slightly, in surprise as he locked eyes with his brother who stood on even ground with him. His face was still bright red from the blood which had pooled in his head while he hung upside down.

Harry quickly recovered and dodged Jack's dismemberment charm before casting one of his own. Harry smiled slightly, he wasn't proud, but he still smiled. "I am impressed Jack, I thought that perhaps you were foolish enough to think you could overpower me directly." Harry said, casting a shield charm against Jack's hex of a thousand stings.

"Stupefy," Harry cast before continuing with his speech. "But you just wanted me to think that. Then you attacked me while I was distracted, you broke free and that is why I was able to cast the shield charm. I suppose…" Harry was cut off by a cutting curse which came a little too close.

When Harry regained the upper hand, he continued once again. "I suppose it really is a shame Father was not here to see it. But then again, he will not be here to see this either." Harry said before the shockwave from a nearby explosion knocked Jack on his back.

Jack was done now, Harry could tell he had enough.

Jack lay motionless except for his painful sounding coughs every few seconds. Harry noticed a bit of blood leaking from his body as he came closer.

Harry slowly made his way over to his brother before kneeling beside him. Gently, he rested his hand on his brother's cheek. "Do not forget this, Jack. It is not only because I am the eldest son. Or because I am Headboy. Or anything else you whisper to yourself late at night, over, and over again. It is because you will never be able to match me. I will always be stronger than you, faster, smarter. That, and only that, is why I will always be better than you. Father's love will never change that." Harry whispered before patting Jack on the cheek once.

With his point made, Harry whisked out of the room. He heard a single, dark, quiet whimper but he did not slow or turn around to face it.

Lyra waited, ever patient, just outside the room. "How did your training go? Do you think he can take over for you?" She asked after a moment.

Harry remained quiet for a minute as the pair marched through Hogwarts, to Gryffindor Tower. Jack was strong. If Harry had never been born, perhaps he would have been the strongest Potter in generations. Alas, he had been born and that title lay with him. But Jack was stronger than Harry first imagined. Their mother was wrong, he was not growing egotistical under their father. Harry could tell, Jack wished to make his own path.

Eventually, he spoke. "Jack is a Potter, just as much as me," Harry said simply.

"I see. I suppose that is all there is to it." Lyra responded as the pair entered Gryffindor Tower.

Jack needed to be molded, to be hardened. He needed to have that childish idealism purified out of him, just as Harry's had been. He needed someone to hate, someone to forever chase after. Who else was there to do it but Harry himself?

…

The school was alight with excitement. Purebloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns, all of them alight with anticipation at who was to be arriving at their school. House rivalries and prejudice had been collectively set aside as students turned to one another throughout the day of classes to gossip. If there was one thing that united even the most separate of groups, it was another group they could all agree was worse.

While the Triwizard tournament was a semiregular event, having only been canceled once or twice per century, many had yet to experience it. For one, only Purebloods, or in rare cases a halfblood of sufficient status, were allowed to go abroad when the tournament was hosted elsewhere.

It was safe to say that even the Muggle-borns were excited about the event that lay ahead. Though they did not totally understand it. For the special occasion, all dining restrictions were put on hold, at least that was the official explanation. Harry felt it was more likely that they wanted to present an air of unity to their guests.

Harry listened quietly as those around him spoke in hushed whispers. They all sat in the Great Hall, waiting patiently for the other schools to arrive. Dumbledore had already given a small speech on the propriety and decorum that he expected from his lovely students.

Harry himself was really just waiting for the food. Steak and asparagus, that's all he was concerned about. Would they be served foreign food to better welcome the other schools? Surely, a meal such as steak and asparagus was a staple of Hogwarts. Surely-

The large doors to the Great Hall boomed open as a woman, wider than she was tall, marched in. She was dressed in dark, red robes with white highlights. She didn't grace any of the students with her gaze as she continued to march straight ahead.

"Johanna Frey," Harry heard the name whispered around him. Though he didn't need them to tell him her name because he already knew it.

Johanna Frey was one of the most beloved witches in the Austrian Empire. Loved for her strength and courage and valor. She had reportedly made waves in the field of dream magic years back. That wasn't why the Austrians loved her, however. She also happened to be one of the most hated witches in Britain. Harry smirked as she walked past. It wasn't hard to imagine why the Germans had sent her as their envoy.

As fat and slow as she may be, she had single-handedly killed fifteen British wizards and easily a hundred times that of muggles in one single battle. After that, she became a staple of pride for the Germans and a staple in the backside for the British. Harry and she also happened to be sixth cousins, once or twice removed if he remembered correctly.

Behind her followed a group of similarly dressed students, all of them just as aloof and condescending looking as her. Harry watched on, bored, as they funneled into the room. He heard curious whispers from nearby students of whom they thought was the most powerful looking or who they thought was the greatest threat.

There wasn't much Harry could tell from just watching the group march by, or he would be paying more attention than anyone. Contrary to popular belief, there wasn't much one could tell by watching how someone carries themselves. Sometimes the most confident walk was only there to cover up the crippling insecurity that lay beneath. And sometimes it was the opposite.

Or at least, that's what Harry thought. Regardless, he would find all he needed to know in due time.

The Durmstrang students marched in two single-file lines down the aisles between their empty table and the Slytherin and Ravenclaw table. None sat, instead standing at ease besides their seat and waiting. Eventually, in synchronicity with their chaperone, Johanna Frey, they all sat down.

Harry turned back to the large doors of the Great Hall and only a moment later, they burst open once more.

A man with smooth blonde hair and a pleasant smile walked in first this time, a far cry from Durmstrang. He wore dark blue robes with white highlights that the students trailing behind him matched. This time, Harry didn't recognize the man escorting the foreign students. It seemed no one who sat near him did either. The students, while not particularly friendly, were much better than those who came before them. A few smiled and looked around in polite curiosity, still, most were stone-faced. Compared to the open hostility from Durmstrang it was a welcomed surprise.

Harry's mouth watered in anticipation as the Beauxbatons students sat down. It was time to eat and Harry's stomach knew it.

"Look at these girls…" Oliver whispered to Hector, who smirked back, looking equally dreamy.

Lyra's face scrunched in mild distaste as she looked at the table with the students from Beauxbatons. "She's here too." She said evenly.

"Who?" Oliver asked after Lyra made no move to continue.

"Fleur, Princess of Lomburgundy," Lyra explained after a moment.

"She's…" Oliver trailed off as he stared at the beautiful girl.

"Awful. Arrogant and obnoxious, too, all because she's part-Veela and heir to some backwater dump. Despite that, she can barely cast a from what I've heard." Lyra finished.

Oliver and Hector nodded along with her words, but Harry could tell that the last thing either of them was thinking about was her personality or skill with a wand. Well, perhaps they were thinking of her skill with one particular kind of wand…

Harry had met the girl a few times before as well. Though, "met" might be too strong of a word for their interactions. He had briefly seen her at her older sister Isabelle's wedding to Bayard, one of the emperor's sons, but there were scarcely more than two words spoken between them.

Harry was more interested in those from Durmstrang. It was a century since someone from Beauxbatons last won the Triwizard tournament and with Harry competing, it would be another five years at the least.

Sadly, Lyra was sitting on the bench opposite of him, so she could only watch the Beauxbatons table without turning her head. Harry did not share access to her 'who's who' memory, and he would not ask her for a favor.

He felt that he recognized some from Durmstrang slightly… but nobody explicitly. He was sure that at the very least, the Austrian Emperor's heir was not at the table.

The dinner was an almost quiet affair. Many from Hogwarts were too busy gawking to engage in the conversation that normally filled the room. Those who weren't openly gawking at the foreigners whispered about them instead. Harry didn't mind one way or the other, though it was nice to catch a break from Lyra's incessant gossip. Finally, the food vanished and Dumbledore stood.

"I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts. It is always an honor and privilege to play host to such a sacred tradition of ours. The Triwizard tournament is where the best of our three great schools compete for eternal glory. I truly hope that past prejudices can be left at home in favor of wholeheartedly supporting our three champions. While each champion represents the best of their school, we should not forget that together, they represent the future of wizardkind," Dumbledore exclaimed loudly, so all could hear him. For a moment, his eyes landed on Harry's before flickering away as quickly as they had come.

"Now, it is time for this sacred cup to be revealed to all!" He finished before gesturing off to the side.

An ancient stone cup that glowed with its own magical light source hovered closer and closer to the pedestal that had been set up on the center stage. The cup was a dark grey with beautiful glass sides that glowed an elegant blue. Harry could almost feel the centuries of magic rolling off it. Only a rare few times had Harry ever been exposed to an item such as this. He drank it in hungrily, as did everyone else in the room. Though, it's majesty was likely lost on the majority in the room.

Dumbledore remained quiet another moment more, for dramatic effect, before continuing. "Any of you who wish to enter, may. Whether your blood can be traced back eleven years or eleven hundred. The Triwizard cup has a magic of its own, and it will choose the student destined to compete. It is not up to us to limit its power… Though I warn you, this tournament will likely be one of the most dangerous things you ever witness, let alone compete in." Dumbledore spoke, quieter this time.

Harry watched as some in the hall faces changed. Some who had previously looked bitter looked excited. Some, who looked like they were trying their hardest to look uninterested, suddenly became the most interested of all. Dumbledore's warning had fallen on deaf ears, it seemed.

"You will have twenty-four hours to sign your name and school and deposit it into the cup. This time tomorrow, we shall have our champions. With that, I bid you all good night." Dumbledore exclaimed before making his way out of the hall, Johanna Frey and the unknown man at his heel.

Harry yawned tiredly before grabbing the piece of paper he had signed hours before from his robe pocket. The quicker this was done and over, the quicker he could go to sleep. He had stayed up to patrol last night, and all he wanted to do now was catch up on sleep.

Harry examined the piece of paper for any changes or smudges. "Harry Potter, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,'' it read neatly. Satisfied, Harry stood up and made his way over to the cup. He heard Lyra stand up just after him.

The hall remained quiet as all three schools watched the first two names to be deposited into the cup. Harry turned to face his own school body as well as the foreign ones.

Harry smiled easily at the attention. With a small nod of his head, he looked towards the Durmstrang table. "I will beat any of you who gets chosen." He promised before beginning to walk away. Unfortunately, one of his feet caught the other, and he fell face-first onto the hard, stone floor of Hogwarts. There were a few giggles from the Beauxbatons and Hogwarts tables, but none more so than from the Durmstrang table which erupted into rude laughter.

Harry ignored the jeers and shouts as he made his way down the center aisle. He did not look anyone in the eye as he made his way down the Great Hall.

"Did you have to do that?" Lyra asked Harry as the doors to the Great Hall closed behind them.

"I am quite clumsy… and right after my taunt too, how embarrassing," Harry answered. With an annoyed sigh, Lyra flicked her hair and made her way in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, with Harry soon to follow her.