23.
"Why are you all wet?" Viktor asked Harry one morning as they were out flying. Harry shivered and he swore he could feel his shirt start to freeze in the cold winter morning.
"I was testing out my fins," Harry said, smiling through chattering teeth. "They worked, heating charm did not. So I can move around under water now, but I'll either freeze to death trying to get the hang of it or have no practice underwater before the challenge."
"I'm trying something similar. Fish have cold blood. If I transfigure myself into something like a shark, cold is no problem. Swimming is no problem. Water is also no problem."
"Huh, that's one way to do it," Harry said, laughing. "Simple, but effective. Less work than what I have planned, anyway. I'm trying to make myself some gills."
"Bubble head charm not working?"
"I don't like it. One wrong move and the bubble pops and then it's difficult to recast. Gills are better. More difficult, but better. You'd think that someone would have figured out a better way to travel through water with all the magic we have access to. This is ridiculous."
"I agree. I cannot find anything better either. The muggles, they build these machines that go deeper into the ocean than wizards have ever gone. Wizards can learn something from them, but nobody seems to be interested." They spoke companionably like this as they returned to the castle. Harry got the impression wizards were pants at doing anything underwater and, really, something needed to be done about that. If the most anyone could come up with were literally turning into a fish or blowing a bubble, Harry was greatly disappointed in the imagination of the magical community. He gave up trying to air dry himself and spelled himself dry before his fingers actually froze off.
The Gryffindors had double potions with Slytherin the next day and Draco stopped Harry just outside the classroom. Theodore Nott hid behind him looking more petrified than usual.
"We need to talk," Draco said, gesturing for Harry to follow. Harry nodded and they made their way to the abandoned bathroom. Harry silenced the room and locked the door.
"Okay, Theo," Draco said, "no one can hear us in here. Tell Harry what you told me."
"You can't keep competing in this tournament, Harry. It's a death eater plot to kill you. The third task. I don't know everything, but they're going to kill you."
"How do you know all of this?" Harry asked gently.
"They-they made me help," Theo sobbed, "They have my dad. They forced me to put your name in the cup. I found out where they were keeping it and snuck in. I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't mean for anything bad to happen to you, but my dad is all I have. They took him when he refused to help." Theo tried to continue, but he cried too hard to get any more words out. Harry ran a hand through his hair. He didn't need to read his mind to know that what he was saying was true. He eyed Theo thoughtfully and noticed he was holding himself in a way that looked eerily familiar.
"Theo, are you hurt?" Harry asked, gently. He didn't want to touch him. "Theo," he repeated, "I can see that you're hurt. You don't have to be afraid. We won't tell anyone about it. Just let Draco heal you." Draco looked from Harry to Theo, his brows drawing closer together as anger colored his face.
"They hurt me," Theo muttered, "after I said no. My back. It hasn't healed properly." Harry pulled over a stool and gently sat Theo down in it. Theo removed his shirt to reveal a smattering of infected gashes on his back. He'd bandaged them as well as he could, but the wounds were made with magic and stayed open for several months without proper care. Draco winced in sympathy and started working on healing those wounds.
"Theo, I need you to look at me," Harry said, using just a little bit of his legilimency to calm him. Theo stared dazedly into his eyes. Harry saw Dolohov's face and the faces of other death eaters he'd seen last year. The face that surprised him the most, however, was that of Barty Crouch Sr. Harry retreated from Theo's mind and tried to soothe Theo's anxiety. He hardly knew him, but he couldn't just leave him so vulnerable and afraid. Draco finished his healing spells and helped Theo dress himself.
"Theo, I don't blame you at all, okay? What happened to me is the death eaters' fault and no one else's. Go get some sleep. You need it." Still dazed, Theo stumbled out.
"What did you do to him?" Draco asked, puzzled.
"I looked into his mind. He was so scared I could hardly piece together anything. The death eaters didn't tell him anything. They made him put my name in the cup and give them reports on my movements. I just tried to calm his mind a bit to try to calm him down. That much anxiety isn't good for anyone. I'll talk to him again when he's calmed down."
"How did you know he was hurt?"
Harry touched the back of his neck, where the ghost of an old injury lay. "I used to do that. He was hunched over so it wouldn't hurt."
"What will you do? Can you report it?"
"Not much I can do but wait and be prepared. Barry Crouch Sr. is in on it. If I report it to him, I'd be swatting the grass to alert the snake."
The night of the Yule Ball arrived and Harry tried his dress robes on, a very nice set of black robes. The sleeves of his inner suit jacket were slim fitted and the short, inverted collar drew a smooth line where his shoulders connected with his neck. He wore a simple, fitted white dress shirt and left the suit jacket unbuttoned. The outer robe stopped just above his ankles and draped naturally over the ensemble. The robe had no collar and had slits for his arms rather than full sleeves. He hated the idea of wearing a tie, but McGonagall had threatened to curse him with a permanent one if he didn't wear one, so he wore one. His hair was in a simple plait slung over his shoulder. The lines were simple, yet elegant, and all Draco's idea. Harry could just imagine the smug look on Draco's face and sighed. The mirror tsked and said, "First time I've ever seen anyone sad about being good looking." Harry rolled his eyes, earning him a grumble from the mirror. He turned around and yelped in shock.
"Ron, you scared me! I thought a-a-ghoul snuck in here or something." Harry looked Ron up and down, taking in the ugly brown potato sack-like garment Ron wore. It smelled as if a cat had urinated on it decades ago before it was left in the rain and chucked into an old attic to mold.
"Watch it," Ron replied, "ghouls are nice. Don't be so mean to ghouls. What are you wearing?"
"What am I wearing? What are you wearing?"
"These are my dress robes. Mum found them at home and I fit them, so I'm wearing them. Fred and George got new ones."
"I can't let Padma see that. She'd kill me. Here, let me." Harry produced his wand and transfigured the robes into a rather fashionable set of navy dress robes with a sleek outer robe, navy waistcoat, white shirt, navy slacks, and a black tie.
"There," Harry said, "much better. Now your date won't run away from you."
"Blimey, Harry," Ron said scrambling to get in front of a mirror, "you have to teach me how to do that. Then I won't mind getting hand-me-downs so often." When the two of them exited the common room, Harry was confronted with yet more crimes of fashion.
"Hello ladies," he said in greeting to Padma and Parvati. Both were waiting for them just outside the portrait. Neither of them answered. Parvati scowled at her shoes. Both were wearing complimentary sarees in shades of hot pink and fuschia. The cut for both was clumsy and looked as if they were copies of a child's drawing.
"Why the long faces?" Harry asked.
"Your robes are...so pink...and festive," Ron said. Harry cleared his throat trying not to laugh at Ron's attempt at a compliment.
"Why do you two look so good?" Parvati asked, scowling. "I can't go out like this. There was a mistake with our clothes."
"We tried exchanging them," Padma said glumly, "but it was too late by the time these arrived."
Harry sighed and looked around. Assured that no one was watching, he turned to the both of them and said, "Imagine what you would rather be wearing and look at me."
"What are you planning, Harry?" Padma asked, newly threaded eyebrow raised.
"Just trust me, okay? Padma, you first. Take a look at Ron. You want to match him?" Padma eyed Ron's dress robes and nodded.
"Ready." She made eye contact with Harry. He gently probed her mind and saw a navy blue saree with intricate silver beading and silver lace trim. The blouse was also navy with silver brocade and paired with a silver petticoat that fanned out like a mermaid's tail. Harry produced his wand and weaved a pattern in the air, wordlessly transfiguring Padma's clothes into what he saw in her mind. He made some assumptions about the material and transfigured her shoes so that they were blue. When he was done, Padma was brought nearly to tears with joy, hopping up and down gleefully.
"Me next!" Parvati said. "You're not wearing any color."
"Pick one," Harry said, chuckling. "I'll match you." He looked into her mind and saw a deep violet saree with rose gold floral beading and pearls dotting the center of each flower. The whole ensemble was violet in a fabric that shifted colors and shimmered in the light. Harry whistled. "That's some imagination you've got there."
"Just do it, Harry," Parvati said excitedly. Harry laughed and waved his wand. The result was, well, magical. Both girls looked stunning. Harry changed his tie to match Parvati's saree and added a very modern-looking rose gold floral pattern in silk thread to his inner suit jacket.
"One last thing," he said, pointing his wand at the pink ribbons in each girl's hair. He transfigured the ribbons into fresh white flowers nestled in their hair.
"Where did you learn this, Harry?" Parvati asked, twirling in her new clothes.
"It's a secret," Harry said, stowing his wand. "Please, please don't tell anyone I did this for you. I don't want to help everyone at the ball transfigure their clothes."
"No way!" Padma cried, "No one can look as good as we look. You are forbidden from doing this for anyone else." Parvati hooked an arm around Harry's arm and pulled him to the grand staircase.
"Be careful, mate" Ron yelled behind him, "they're faster in those heels than you think."
"No kidding!" Harry yelled back, practically stumbling after Parvati. As the four of them descended the stairs, all eyes were trained on the girls. Harry's skin prickled, but as he observed the twins preening, he couldn't help but smile.
"What on earth did you do to this suit?" Draco said, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and turning him this way and that. Next to him, Pansy whistled.
"You clean up well, Potter," she said, eyeing him up and down. Harry pulled his cloak tighter around himself.
"And how did you manage to match?" Draco asked, wagging his finger between Harry and Parvati.
"I may have done a little transfiguration," Harry said quietly.
"What? You could do that the whole time? Why do I even bother taking you shopping?" Draco sulked.
"I understand I have you to thank for Harry even having a suit," Pravati said, laughing.
"Yes you do," Draco said. "Harry was about to buy the most ghastly, baggy set of robes you ever saw. I suppose all of this wasn't his idea either." Draco gestured up and down at her.
"Nope, it came from up here," Parvati said, tapping her head.
"I figured. You ever want a career in fashion, let me know. My mother knows people."
Just then, something else caught the crowd's attention and everyone turned to see Hermione being escorted down the stairs by Viktor Krum. Harry smiled as he saw how happy she and Viktor looked. Their relationship had been under wraps until now and he was sure Hermione was relieved now that everyone knew.
"You're beautiful, Hermione," Harry said, beaming at her.
"Yeah, 'mione," Ron said, managing not to stutter despite being mere inches away from Viktor Krum. "Your hair's listening to you and everything. Looks nice."
"Now here's a lady who doesn't need any help getting dressed," Draco said approvingly.
"Thank you, boys," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She left them and joined the Patil twins, each squealing over each other's outfits. Fleur descended the stairs next with Roger Davies and Cedric with Cho. Soon after, the crowd was ushered into the Great Hall. After a glorious feast, the tables were cleared and the champions lined up for the first dance. Harry was thankful for Draco's lessons. He didn't want to disappoint Parvati. After the formal dance ended, The Weird Sisters performed and Harry narrowly avoided being thrown into the middle of the mosh pit. Harry stepped out into the cold winter evening to escape the noise. He silenced his footsteps and disillusioned himself, narrowly avoiding disturbing kissing couples in the main courtyard. Just as he thought he'd found a place to sit, he heard Madame Maxime and Hagrid whispering to each other.
"Hagrid, this has been such a magical evening," Madame Maxime said, hunched over slightly to be eye level with Hagrid. Their height difference was apparent, but neither seemed to really care as they peered into each other's faces.
"Oh Olympe," Hagrid said, his voice drunk with happiness. "If only this tournament lasted forever. I can't bear to be away from yeh."
"Nor I, mon coeur," Madame Maxime whispered back huskily.
"I never thought I'd find someone like me in all my life," Hagrid said. Madame Maxime pulled away.
"Like you? Wha-" Sensing that Hagrid bringing up her giantess blood had hit a sore spot, Harry gave Hagrid a firm shove from behind, causing him to fall forward and kiss Madame Maxime squarely on the lips. Harry made a quick get getaway and gagged slightly at the noises they made behind him.
Harry continued walking, taking an indoor route to the Great Hall. He slowed as he heard angry whispering in the hall. Harry disillusioned himself and crept silently closer to the sound.
"You told me that after I gave myself up and ratted out the others, I would be safe," a tall figure spat.
"You are safe. The Dark Lord is gone and those who would have a grudge against you are gone." Harry crept closer and recognized Igor Karkaroff and Barty Crouch Sr. Mr. Crouch was not in the least intimidated by Igor looming shadow. Karkaroff rolled up his sleeve and bared his Dark Mark, angry and red in the torchlight.
"He is not gone. Look. If he finds me, he will kill me for my betrayal. You need to hold up your end of the bargain, Crouch."
"Or what?"
"Or I let it slip to the press that you plotted to have your own son thrown into Azkaban." Mr. Crouch stared stonily into Igor's snarling face.
"He's dead now, Karkaroff," Mr. Crouch said, "and so is everything else I hold dear. I have nothing to lose. Go on, tell the world. Won't change a thing." Crouch turned and left. Harry remained hidden, wondering what Karkaroff meant. Crouch had a son who went to Azkaban?
As Harry rounded a corner, he ran headlong into what felt like a brick wall. It was dark and he couldn't see a thing. Someone grabbed him by the collar and picked him up, illuminating his face with a lumos.
"I should have known it would be you," Igor Karkaroff said, the acrid smell of fire whiskey and tooth rot on his breath. The man was covered in furs and his bristly white beard was unkempt. His eyes were red-rimmed and his sallow yellow cheeks made him look undead.
"You and your meddling is costing Durmstrang the tournament," he hissed. Harry turned his head away from the stench of his breath.
"Professor, I'm sorry. Please. I didn't mean to overhear. I was just passing by and-"
"No excuses, boy," Karkaroff said, throwing Harry to the ground. "I've had enough of you. If I kill you, they might very well forgive me. Now hold still."
"Who would forgive you?" Harry asked, reaching slowly for his wand.
"It won't matter to you, whelp," Karkaroff said, raising his staff. The staff set itself ablaze and he brought it down upon Harry's head with force enough to kill. Harry dodged nimbly and grabbed Karkaroff's arm. He wrenched the staff from him and whistled appreciatively. He silenced the area so no one would hear the scuffle.
"Can I keep this staff? If you give it to me, I won't tell the ministry you're attacking students." Karkaroff shook off Harry's hold on him and snarled, this time producing his wand. Harry wordlessly disarmed him.
"Are you drunk?" Harry asked mockingly. "You're very out of shape. So slow. Really, I expected more from a headmaster."
Karkaroff lunged for his throat. Harry instead punched him in the throat, then in the gut, grabbed him by the hair and pinned him to the wall by taking hold of his body by controlling his soul. He forced Karkaroff to look at him and dove forcefully into the man's mind. Foremost in the man's thoughts was Barty Crouch Sr. and his son. There was a trial and one of the names Karkaroff gave up was Barty Crouch Jr. Even worse still, he'd ratted out Dolohov. This man was the enemy of both the ministry and the death eaters.
"You're bad at this game, aren't you," Harry scoffed. He delved further into Karkaroff's mind, paying very little attention to the pained whimpers the man was making. Barty Crouch Sr. found out his own son was a death eater and so he made a deal with Karkaroff. Rat out Barty Jr. to save his family's reputation and save his relationship with his dear wife and Karkaroff could buy his freedom. As Harry dug into more recent history, he found out that the man had in fact imperiused someone in the Bulgarian magical government into giving him his job at Durmstrang. What's more, the man was an utter tyrant and tormented students with martial punishment. Harry emerged from Karkaroff's mind. The once proud headmaster was pinned to the wall like a mounted animal trophy, his face slack with drool dripping from his open mouth.
"Pathetic," Harry said as he wondered what he was going to do. He couldn't just erase his mind and let him go or he would just go back to being a bully. No, something needed to be done. He placed Karkaroff in stasis, as he'd done with Peter Pettigrew, and transfigured him into a marble, which he tucked away safely in his pocket. Harry made it back to the Great Hall for the last dance. When the dance was over, Parvati hugged the life out of him, thanking him for the experience.
"No, thank you, Parvati," Harry said, returning the embrace. "You and Padma saved me. I can't thank you enough."
"It was the right thing to do, Harry," Parvati said. "I hope I didn't steal you away from a lucky witch or warlock. Though, I didn't feel any sort of romantic feelings from you at all, even while you were unshielded."
"I dunno, Parvati," Harry said, sighing. "I suppose I've been too distracted with everything that's happened to me to think about that kind of thing." Parvati gazed at him sadly, searching his eyes for something.
"Well, you share your love with so many people. You deserve to be loved back, you know."
"I know, Parvati," Harry replied.
As soon as everyone in the dormitory was asleep, Harry snuck out of the dormitory, narrowly avoiding bumping into Neville, who had refused to go to bed and instead continued waltzing in the middle of the common room. He was so enthralled, he didn't even notice the portrait door swinging open and shut. He crept hastily to Moody's door and impatiently rapped on the door. Harry heard a clamor on the other side of the room before a rough hand pulled him inside.
"Do you have any idea what time of night it is, son? Can't you let a man get some sleep? I'm old. I need my rest." Moody was in his nightie and scowled as Harry took his invisibility cloak off.
"Oh don't give me that. You told me you were younger in your own body. How'd you know it was me?" Harry asked.
"No one else in this school is rude enough to wake me up at two in the bloody morning. What is it? What do you want?" He huffed and sat in an armchair by the fire.
"It's actually kind of urgent."
"What do you mean 'kind of'?"
"I've done something a bit rash."
"You? Rash? This I have to see." Harry rolled his eyes and produced the marble from his pockets. He transfigured the marble back into Igor Karkaroff, who floated eerily in the air like a corpse in water.
"Holy smokes, son, what did you do to him?" Moody asked, cackling at the sight. "You remember we decided not to kill him, right?"
"I sorta stopped his body clock. He's unaware of anything around him. I took control of his soul and had him pinned to a wall. You won't believe this, but I overheard him threatening Barty Crouch Sr." Harry explained everything he learned that evening.
"So he attacked you? I didn't think he was that stupid. The alcohol must have finally pickled his brain," Moody said, his gleeful expression losing some of its mirth.
"No, he's a bonafide idiot. What kind of absolute numbskull would piss off the man who basically runs the ministry, Dolohov, and Voldemort. There's no corner of the earth he could have hidden in." Moody cackled again.
"Well, son, you have to put him back eventually. Wipe his memory or something."
"No, I have to do something to get rid of him. He's a child abuser. He's so mean to his students, many of them drop out of Durmstrang."
"Well, then we have to kill him then." Moody said glibly. "But how? We can't just murder a headmaster." Harry thought for a moment.
"Well, I do know this one trick I've been playing around with recently. I can tear his soul nearly away from his body and he'll die slowly as his soul continues to unravel. It'll look like a mysterious disease with no trace. He'll be dead by the end of the summer."
"Now that's evil," Moody said, clearly impressed. "But, and pardon me for saying this, you're not really the killing type."
"I'm not a fan, no," Harry said, taking his hair back with one hand. "I don't particularly like that my body count is going up. There isn't any other way. I wouldn't even be thinking about it if it weren't for the fact that he would hurt more people if I let him go. That blood would be on my hands too." Moody gave him a strange look.
"Where do you learn all of this soul business anyhow? The dark lord told me you were a necromancer, but he skimped on the details."
"That's because he doesn't know. I refused to tell him." Harry scoffed, remembering how cagey they'd been with each other.
"You refused the dark lord? You're barmy."
"He wouldn't tell me his secrets, so I wouldn't tell him mine. Simple as that," Harry said almost indignantly.
"Well I can see why he likes you. He doesn't tolerate timidity and only people who have a deathwish play hard to get with the dark lord."
"I don't have a death wish."
"Don't you?" Harry ignored Moody. He looked into Karkaroff's eyes and altered his memories, implanting instead the idea that he drank too much and ended up passing out in the clock tower courtyard. Then, Harry used his control over Karkaroff's soul to walk his body to the courtyard from Moody's room. Karkaroff stood up, though he was unconscious, and walked himself out of the room like a shambling corpse.
"Yikes," Moody said.
"Yeah, well, welcome to my world," Harry said.
The day after the Yule Ball, Rita made her second attack. She fleshed out the details of the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins, writing that the young witch had last been seen running an errand to the house of Barty Crouch Sr. Without accusing him outright, Rita laid the facts out for the reader to deduce that Jorkins had learned something unsavory at the Crouch house and was killed for it. Harry whistled as he admired her handiwork, surprised that even she could suss out so many details that were under wraps at the ministry. It didn't surprise him in the least that Crouch disappeared the next day.
Harry spent a fair amount of time training with Moody over the remainder of the holiday and because he was no longer tired and starving, made significant headway achieving flight without a broom. Harry utilized the meditation technique Tom taught him to more efficiently use his magic to latch onto the streams of magic, propelling his body into the air. Control was difficult, but over a month or so, he managed to stay in flight for ten minutes at a time. It was short, but Harry was happy with it.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Harry asked as he touched down softly on the forest floor. Moody's face was scrunched up and more cabbage-like than usual.
"I'm just very frustrated with your very existence," he said.
"What? What are you on about?"
"It's like this, see. I talked to old Severus about you and he told me you can cast damn near every spell known to man and that a werewolf taught you how to fight like an animal. Now you're doing something I have only seen the dark lord do. Granted, when the dark lord does it, a pillar of black smoke erupts from his arse, but you're flying in the bleedin' air without a broom like a muggle super hero. On top of all of this, you can bring dead people back to life."
"Why are you troubled by that?"
"You're only 14. Why are you training as if there's a war on? You're like some kind of child soldier. When I was your age, I was working out how to snog girls and smuggle fire whiskey into school."
"I dunno, I just got sick of feeling helpless. I know there are people and things out to kill me, so I've been...frantic like this all of my life."
"You do realize that the stronger you get, the bigger the target on you're back gets."
"I know that. I tried keeping it a secret, but the longer I keep, you know, refusing to die, the harder it gets to keep it under wraps."
"Well you absolutely may not show this flying thing to anybody. You'd be caught like a rat and dissected."
"Have you told Tom that Crouch went missing yet?"
"Yes, and he agrees that it's most likely a setup. Crouch is trying to clear his own name after the allegations made in the Prophet. Since you clearly saw his face in the Nott boy's memories, it's the only thing that makes sense. Did you speak to him about what the death eaters have told him to do next?"
"Not yet. I wanted to give Draco more time to calm him down. He still doesn't trust me enough to tell me everything that happened. I think he's being watched and if he's seen talking to me, they might hurt his father. I'd like to resolve this without dying and without harming his father."
"I'll snoop around the grounds and the Slytherin common room to look for monitoring spells. As for the second task, I've confirmed that you'll be rescuing someone from the merpeople in the Black Lake. That much you knew, but the person being taken is your friend the Malfoy boy. I also stumbled across a death eater in the forest at the edge of the lake talking to a merperson. Couldn't understand a thing of course, but expect some retaliation."
"I don't want to kill mermaids," Harry whined. "That forest is the biggest security risk for what is supposedly the safest place in the magical world."
"It's uncharted," Moody responded, cackling. "It's like a black hole of a place and most maps sort of approximate where it is. The logic always was that nobody could get through the forest, so nobody could make it to the school from there."
"Well, if Voldemort himself on the back of Quirrell's head could go traipsing through the forest without anyone noticing, a pack of death eaters can sneak in to go on a date with a mermaid." Moody cackled and threw Harry a small compact mirror.
"The dark lord gave me that for you. It's a two-way mirror. Obviously, don't use it in the open. He wants to tell you what he's been up to, but it mostly sounds like he just wants to make sure you're alive."
"Did you tell Tom about my trip to the infirmary?"
"If you mean your complete mental and physical collapse, then yes, I told him. I can't believe you call him Tom. Gives me the heebie jeebies."
That night, Harry snuck out of the Gryffindor common room and made a hasty retreat to the room of requirement. He rubbed the two-way mirror and Tom's smiling, if tiny, face appeared in it.
"Hey," Tom said, his voice sounding the same as he remembered. He looked a few years older than the Tom who lived inside the diary, but Harry was taken aback at seeing him alive again with a real body. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he said as Harry stared.
"It's just, you're alive again," Harry said, laughing.
"Thanks to you." Tom's smile dropped slightly as he took in Harry's appearance. "Moody told me you were ill again. What happened?"
"The dementors last year gave me empath powers and I was overwhelmed." Tom nodded in understanding.
"You've gotten older," he said, laughing softly. "I can't tell you how much I wanted to come find you again. The way I left you must have been hard."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't come to my doorstep. I think Mr. Malfoy would have passed out."
"Oh Lucius hasn't changed. I have to make a house call one of these days. He was one of my most loyal followers. Besides, I love seeing that little vein that pops out of his head when he's stressed. I like it when pretty boys like him squirm."
"Aw ew, he's more or less my dad now. Stop that."
"Stop being so young, then," Tom replied petulantly. Harry laughed, relieved it was as if they were picking up where they left off.
"I was worried you were going to go berserk after giving back your soul." Harry looked into Tom's eyes searchingly, wishing he was there in person.
"My soul was much bigger than the part you gave back. I have the memories of my older self, but I'm still me. I remember you. I don't think anyone as persistent and frustrating you will ever leave my mind."
"I found another piece of your soul in Ravenclaw's diadem, you big nerd," Harry said.
"Should have known you would find it, you nosy gremlin. I trust you to keep it safe until I see you again. I heard you took care of Igor. I was going to get to it eventually, but this is better."
"What do you know about the deal between him and Crouch?"
"Aside from what you told Moody, not much else. I know he wanted to put Barty Jr. in Azkaban and renounce him to save the Crouch reputation. Barty Jr. then supposedly died in Azkaban and his mother died of a long illness shortly after. His political career also went down the toilet."
"So the man has nothing to lose. What's he playing at?"
"Here's the thing. Barty Jr. found me in the summer after the quidditch world cup. He's been alive this whole time. It turns out his mother traded places with him to die in Azkaban. Old man Crouch kept him imperiused and locked in the house for months. The fool brought him to the tournament, where Barty Jr. escaped. He used his mark to find me and he's been helping me ever since. Barty Jr. told me about the tournament and that his father has been working with the new death eaters to rig the events to kill you."
"Why me?"
"The tournament is just a front. Crouch is going to use it to kill members of the elite wizarding governments of the world. He's a shadow puppeteer of the ministry and wishes to extend his influence to other countries. Hogwarts is just a test drive. He could have killed anybody, an audience member, ministry staff, professors, but the death eaters want your life to legitimize their hold over the death eater title."
"It won't work," Harry said. "Rita's been doing a good job ripping apart Crouch and the tournament. The ministry can't allow the tournament to move forward."
"Crouch has deep connections in the ministry and more power than even the Minister of Magic. If his tournament doesn't move forward, that just means he'll be hell bent on killing you. He'll pit the whole ministry against you. Harry, I want you to be careful."
"I will. I promise."
"Why don't I believe you?"
"Because you're distrustful by nature." Tom laughed. They spoke long into the night before Harry had to go back to bed. Tom had apparently been traversing the globe gathering support to rebuild a group to support his original cause. He had gone to the vampires, werewolves, giants, and dark magic users to rally their support for dark magic and efforts to protect magical land from muggle encroachment. These groups, however, were fragmented, and the loss of many sanctuaries for dark creatures meant that they were mostly in hiding in magical communities, hiding their true nature. Tom's latest plans included infiltrating the now gutted Azkaban. The dementors had disappeared and it was the best time to plan an escape for the loyal who remained trapped in the facility. Harry couldn't believe that Tom could have done so much in so little time, but he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. The man was brilliant.
The day of the second task arrived and Harry was less than enthusiastic about standing in the cold, gray morning in his swim trunks. He kept his cloak on and shivered as he stood on the docks with the other champions. Harry caught a glimpse of Igor Karkaroff, who looked pale and sickly, and his skin crawled knowing he'd done that to him. The others began disrobing and Harry did the same, shrugging his cloak off.
The crowd, which had been ogling Viktor, turned its attention to Harry. The hum of chatter died down and a hush fell over the docks. Harry looked around, a confused expression on his face. All eyes were trained on him and it dawned on him that most people hadn't seen the scars covering his body. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring some of the basilisk scars, but there was little he could do to cover the rest of them. Fleur looked aghast and could not tear her eyes away from him. Cedric shot sympathetic glances at him, but tried not to stare. Only Viktor continued stretching and warming up as if nothing was happening, and Harry was grateful. Dumbledore stood and announced the rules of the second task. Harry tuned him out and instead fixated on the judge's table. Percy Weasley sat there instead of Barty Crouch Sr. He'd forgotten that Percy was Crouch's assistant and hoped he had nothing to do with the tournament.
The champions readied themselves and dove into the water. Harry cast his spells, transfiguring himself a pair of gills and webbed hands. His feet grew into flippers, which he used to propel himself nimbly through the water. Beside him, Viktor transfigured half of his body into a shark head, while the rest of his torso remained human. It was a bit inelegant, but it was just Viktor's style. The four champions were separated in the murky depths and Harry made a beeline for the magical energy signatures he was sure led to the merpeople. He took care to avoid the giant squid, but prepared himself to be assaulted by the grindylows. He ran into a swarm of the slimy, tentacled creatures, but did away with them easily using freezing charms to immobilize them. As he incapacitated the last few grindylows, he noticed someone was in distress in the water nearby. Swimming closer, he realized it was Fleur. The grindylows had her left arm pinned to her back. Another was wrapped around her head and she had her wand arm wedged painfully between a tentacle and her neck to stop them from choking her. Harry acted quickly and cast stunners that bounced like chain lightning across the grindylows. They released her and fled. She nodded gratefully at him, but pointed to her mangled wand arm and shook her head. It was clear she couldn't go on without a wand arm. She motioned for him to go on and swam towards the surface.
After an hour, he made it to the merpeople. The village was comprised of huts anchored to the floor by great stakes of wood hammered into the earth. Harry could tell that there was still magic in the village. He was the first to arrive and saw Draco, Hermione, Cho, and another girl with blonde hair he didn't recognize, floating in stasis, anchored to the floor of the lake with rope. He knew Draco was his, but decided to wait for the other champions. The merpeople slowly gathered around him, emerging from their huts to watch him. There was something off about them and Harry readied himself for an attack. After a few minutes, Viktor and Cedric showed up and cut down Hermione and Cho. They both slowed, watching as the merpeople completely ignored them and continued watching Harry, spears at the ready. Harry motioned for them to keep going.
Harry grabbed Draco's rope and decided to cut down the other girl for Fleur. As he let his guard down, however, a merperson thrust a sharp, if crudely made, spear at him, stabbing him just below his ribs on his left side before he had time to dodge. Harry grunted in pain, clutching his side. In retaliation, Harry conjured a spike made of earth from the floor of the lake, impaling the merperson who stabbed him and pinning it against the wall of a hut, dead. Three more merpeople attacked and Harry scrambled to get away. He transfigured the surrounding water, lowering the temperature and freezing the water around the merpeoples' tails and hands. Weighed down by ice, they sank to the lake floor. Harry transfigured the ice into prisons of sharp, icy spikes that kept the merpeople from moving. Taking his chance, Harry latched onto the magical stream closest to him and propelled himself through the water. It was taxing, but he needed to get away from the merpeople. As he neared the surface of the lake, he ran headlong into another school of grindylows. He could hear the screeching screams of the merpeople behind him and dared not stop, even as the grindylows' barbed fingers scratched him, and sharp teeth gnawed at his skin. As he ran out of energy to maintain the propulsion, he threw Draco and the girl onto the dock before scrambling onto the dock himself. The waiting crowd had burst into cheers as Harry emerged with two hostages, a horde of merpeople on his tail. His transfigured body parts reverted as he cut off the spells and he ripped the gnashing grindylows off of his neck and his chest. He was hunched on all fours, gulping lungfuls of air. Someone threw a blanket around him and he wrapped it tightly around himself.
"Harry! Are you alright?" Draco asked as he awoke from his stupor and kneeled in front of him, soaking wet. His hair was flattened against his head in complete disarray.
"I don't think I've ever seen your hair like that," Harry said, laughing. Draco socked him in the arm. Fleur, with her sister in her arms, knelt down to give Harry a hug and four very French kisses on his cheeks. The judges spoke in hushed whispers a few feet away from him and he was perturbed to find that Dumbledore was speaking to a merperson at the dock's edge. As they finished speaking, Dumbledore and the other judges stood and looked to Harry, who still hadn't moved.
"Harry, you killed a merperson?" Dumbledore asked, voice carefully controlled. "The merpeople tell me you attacked them. Your friends were never in harm's way and nothing could have warranted an attack like this."
Harry laughed, exhaustion getting the best of him. "They attacked me first and then chased me through the lake with spears drawn. Everyone saw. None of the other champions were attacked. They were waiting to attack me."
"It's true, sir," Cedric said, elbowing his way through the crowd. "The merpeople weren't paying any attention to the rest of us. They were looking at Harry and had their weapons pointed at him. He hadn't done anything but wait for us to get there. If Harry had to kill one of them, it was in self defense."
"He saved me from the grindylows," Fleur said, "and he knew I would not make it there, so he freed my sister. He wasn't doing anything wrong." The crowd was turned in Harry's favor and many students began yelling for an investigation as to the merpeoples' hostility. The judges reconvened, whispering and glancing back at Harry.
Percy stood and made the announcement after the judges were done deliberating. "The judges have decided that due to his heroism in saving not one, but two hostages, and aiding a fellow champion, Mr. Potter will be awarded second place behind Mr. Diggory, who finished first. Mr. Krum is awarded third place and Ms. Delacour fourth. They find no fault in Harry's actions against the merpeople and their hostility will be investigated thoroughly." The crowd cheered and Viktor and Cedric pulled Harry to his feet. At the sudden movement, however, Harry buckled and yelped in pain. The blanket fell from around Harry's shoulders, revealing his stab wound, a smattering of cuts and bruises from the grindylows, and a pool of blood that had been collecting on the dock.
"He's injured!" Cedric yelled.
"Someone get help!" Viktor barked, holding Harry up. Harry's head swam and he knew there was something wrong. He sank back down onto his knees.
"Harry, hold on. Help is coming. Bear with it," Viktor said. Beside him, Draco was already trying to heal the stab wound
"P-poison," Harry said, before he slumped forward into Viktor's arms.
When Harry awoke, he was lying in a reclined position in the hospital wing, dry and warm in a set of hospital wing pajamas. He tried to sit up, but he was stopped by a hand on his chest that pushed him back down again gently.
"Hey, pup, don't even think about making a break for it." Harry turned to see that Sirius of all people was sitting next to his bed. On his other side sat the Malfoys, who both had relieved looks on their faces. Sirius smiled at Harry's dumbfounded look and patted his cheek gently.
"What happened?"
"You were stabbed," another voice said. Snape entered Harry's room with potions, which Harry drank obediently. Madame Pomfrey and Healer smethwyck entered shortly after.
"You were stabbed, and then you didn't tell anyone you were hurt. You waited a full ten minutes as you bled out to tell anyone that you had been stabbed." Snape made angry notes on some parchment.
"Healer Smethwyck, why are you here?"
"You were also poisoned," smethwyck said, looking over Snape's shoulder his notes. "The merperson who stabbed you wielded a poisoned spear. A merperson is a magical creature, so here I am."
"Harry," Lucius interrupted, "the investigation is currently underway. It seems the group of merpeople who attacked were instructed to hurt you in exchange for some kind of payment. The aurors haven't figured out who gave the order or what the merpeople had to gain."
"It's probably the same people who rigged the cup," Harry sighed, looking at his fingers with a strange expression on his face. His lips were stuck in a silly, childish pout as he squinted at his own hands. "Why are my fingers all wiggly?"
"That's because you're on the good stuff, lad," Sirius said, laughing. "The poison was a neurotoxin that was also hallucinogenic. You got the antidote, but you're going to be fuzzy for a little while." He gently pushed Harry's hands down and tucked them under the covers. He got up and went to the door. Harry could hear him whisper, "Come on in. He's still a little loony, but you can talk to him." Draco, Hermione, Ron, Viktor, Cedric, and Fleur all filed into the room. The younger students piled onto his bed while the other champions took a seat on the second bed in the room.
"I'm implementing a new policy," Draco said, half glaring, half smirking at Harry's dazed expression. "You're to be subjected to a full body exam after every near-death experience."
"Darling, you can't frisk Harry every time he does something brave," Narcissa said, gently restraining Harry's hand as he tried to look down his own shirt at the bandages covering the stab wound.
"Well, then Harry has to learn to tell us when a bloody mermaid skewers him with a spear," Ron said.
"We could enchant a clock that tells us the state of his health," Hermione said, jokingly. "You know, like that doomsday clock you have at home, Ron." Everyone had heard of the famous Weasley doomsday clock and everyone in the room chuckled good naturedly at Hermione's idea. At some point, Harry fell asleep and Harry wasn't sure why, but he dreamt of a clock with his face on the hands that spun around a clock face that read stabbed, poisoned, set on fire, kissed by a dementor, dismembered, and other gruesome injuries. The next time he woke, it was because he heard someone's soft sniffling at the foot of his bed. Harry cracked his eyes open and saw Theo Nott sitting near him crying his eyes out. Harry held out a hand, which Theo took, his fingers trembling in Harry's hand.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Theo said. It was very early in the morning, so early that nobody was awake, not even Madame Pomfrey.
"Sorry for what?"
"They made me give the merpeople the poison. I picked it up at a drop in Hogsmeade and they made me leave it by the lake before the challenge. I had no idea-"
"Hey, hey," Harry rasped. He was still woozy, but his head grew clearer by the minute. "You are not responsible for this. Dolohov and the death eaters have your dad. He's the only family you have, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"I would have done the same. If I only had one person left alive in the whole world, I would do whatever I could to keep them alive. Being alone in the world, it sucks." Theo cried harder, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.
"My dad was a death eater before. When mum died, he stayed with me and raised me by himself. These new death eaters, they're not anything like what dad told me death eaters were. He said they'd changed and it wasn't at all like when they first started up."
"Your dad's one of the old guard, then," Harry said, adjusting himself against his pillows. His wound was sore like a bruise, but he was feeling much better. "I know these new death eaters are different. They're stupid. Taking hostages is a stupid move."
"Dad's old, Harry," Theo continued. "He doesn't even work. They just took him because I'm here."
"You keep your dad alive, Theo. Whatever happens in between, that's inconsequential. We'll figure this out and save him."
"You won't die, right, Harry?"
"That would be nice, but I gotta know what I'm up against." Theo nodded, looking around warily.
"There's nothing here watching you," Harry said, "I warded the place a long time ago. This is my private wing. No nosy people allowed."
"The third task. They're going to take you somewhere. They didn't tell me where or how." Harry nodded, patting Theo's hand.
"That's good enough."
Harry recovered quickly from his injuries and began preparing for the final task. From what Theo told him, Harry knew he had to be ready to take on many foes at once. As soon as Madam Pomfrey released him, he went to Moody, who was lounging around in his office.
"Put a tracking spell on me. Now." He said abruptly.
"What the-did Madame Pomfrey let you out?" Moody nonetheless produced his wand and put a tracker on Harry.
"Yes, of course. Couldn't get out of there if I tried."
"I saw that you had your own wing. Given how often you pass out in a year, I guess I understand. You know, I heard a few first years calling it the Potter wing and that anyone who ends up there is on their deathbed. It's got a ring to it, the Potter wing."
"Oh, stop it," Harry huffed, fiddling with one of the instruments on Moody's desk. The man was surprisingly organized considering their fights almost always ended in the room being a complete disaster.
"No, I didn't believe it either when the dark lord told me you were a walking disaster. I took a look into your medical file at school. You've been injured more times than I have. Me. A death eater. You're a death eater as in you eat it every six months."
"My medical file is confidential, Professor," Harry said shortly.
"Helloooo," Moody said in a singsong voice, "death eater, remember? Legality isn't really at the top of my priorities. Anyhow, I told the dark lord at your most recent field trip to the hospital wing. You should give him a ring."
"What? You told him? Why did you do that?"
"It's in my job description."
"Fine, fine. I wanted to talk to him anyway. Apparently, Dolohov is trying to kidnap me during the third task."
"Hence the tracking spell."
"Yes."
"Can't you try to avoid it? Go talk to that barmy headmaster of yours."
"Can't. He's evil, remember?"
"So what, are you going to just fall into this trap?"
"Yes, I don't see a better way."
"Go see the headmaster. Bring McGonagall. She still works with the man and she's your head of house. Tell her I found out through some sources."
"Nothing will come of it, but I suppose I should try."
Harry and Professor McGonagall ascended the stairs leading to the headmaster's office. The handful of times Harry had been inside were some of the most stressful moments of his entire life. McGonagall's comforting presence was welcome, but she had no way of knowing how wary Harry was of Dumbledore, how much he knew. In the office, Dumbledore, the Minister, Percy, Moody, and the other two headmasters gathered to discuss the potential threat. McGonagall and Moody pled Harry's case at length, explaining the great risk of allowing him to compete. The other headmasters objected, complaining of bias for Harry. The Minister objected for waste of ministry resources. Dumbledore remained silent, occasionally glancing at Harry, whose gaze stayed bolted to the floor.
"Mr. Potter," the headmaster said, "what is it that you would like?"
"I don't believe what I want matters. I am forced to compete at the risk of losing my magic. I've already survived being hurt, but I'm afraid I won't come back if I'm taken. Extra security is all I can really ask for." Dumbledore nodded, his glasses drooping slightly farther down his nose. The large party departed Dumbledore's office to discuss where the security would be placed and Harry was dismissed. As he started for the door, however, he thought he heard something and turned back. A small cabinet in the office slowly swung itself open and something shimmered inside it. Harry inched closer and opened the cabinet, revealing a bowl full of what Harry knew were memories. As Harry drew closer, something pushed him into the bowl, and he fell into a memory.
He was in an older version of the headmaster's office and his surroundings were gray and washed out. Dumbledore sat at his desk and Barty Crouch Sr. sat in front of him, looking perhaps more stiff than when Harry last saw him.
"So you're coming to me for help? I'm surprised, Barty. You're the bogeyman of magical law enforcement. Whatever do you need my help for?"
"My son," Mr. Crouch bit out, "is a death eater. I saw the mark on him when I went home the other day. Useless boy."
"What do you want me to do about him?"
"Help me convince him to renounce them. He would listen to you. He thinks of you like a father."
"Because he didn't have you, Barty," Dumbledore said, the serene smile still plastered on his face. Mr. Crouch ground his teeth.
"Yes," he said, acid in his voice.
"I'm afraid Barty is too far gone," Dumbledore said. "And quite frankly I'm surprised at you. If this were any other person, you would have had them confess under veritaserum and kissed by a dementor."
"What should I do? My wife would never forgive me."
"Frame him for something grievous. Renounce him. Have him exposed by someone else." The vision swam before him and a different scene played out. It was Barty Crouch Jr.'s trial. The younger Crouch was on the stand, begging his father for mercy.
"Father, I have already left the Death Eaters. They changed. I could not condone their methods any longer. Please. I had nothing to do with those crimes. I would never touch the Longbottoms. Please, father, believe me!" Mr. Crouch put on a hard expression and slammed his gavel on the bench.
"Bartemius Crouch Jr., you are hereby sentenced to life in Azkaban. No amount of pleading will help you now." His voice was cold. The vision changed again and Mr. Crouch was in Dumbledore's office again.
"My career is in shambles, Dumbledore."
"It is no one's fault but your own, Barty. You should have paid attention to your own son."
"He was never of any interest to me. I only kept him alive, fed him and clothed him, to please my wife. She would never have forgiven me."
"And now she is all you have left," Dumbledore said, smiling that infuriating smile.
"But what do I do now? What have I done? My career is at an end."
"Oh, don't say that. Now that your reputation is as a hardened monster, you have no reason to worry about the formalities."
"What are you on about?"
"I'm saying you could run the ministry from where you are. Lie, cheat, blackmail, and threaten your way into every department. The lower you are, the easier it is."
"Are you mad? I spent my whole career fighting corruption. I put my own son in prison!"
"And now you have very little to lose. Your precious wife is safe. All I'm saying is that if you want to move up now, this is the only road you have left. Continue your inquisition from the shadows." Mr. Crouch backed away from Dumbledore.
"Where are you going?"
"To report to the aurors that you're a treasonous old coot," Mr. Crouch spat.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I seem to have hit a sore spot. Please, the more company the merrier. Oh and before you leave, I won't mention to our auror friends that it was you who tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom to insanity."
"Is that a threat?"
"Oh, of course it was. Was I not clear? Barty, please. You are much smarter than this." Mr. Crouch backed away, a horrified look on his face.
The scene shimmered and changed again. It was a different day and Harry was face to face with a much younger Dumbledore. He was looking over a resume written out in florid script on a roll of parchment. Dumbledore smiled as he read it over, face beaming. A knock on the door brought him out of his reading and he waved, opening the door magically. To Harry's surprise, Tom walked in dressed to the nines for an apparent job interview.
"Ah Tom," Dumbledore said, his smile warm and his eyes twinkling. Harry was unnerved. This wasn't the headmaster he knew. "I've just been reviewing your application. It is impressive as usual." A black cloud of malignant energy emerged suddenly behind Dumbledore, plunging itself into his body. Harry could see Dumbledore's soul depart his body and the look on his face changed. He reached out with one hand and grasped Tom by one shoulder. Another sliver of black, sludge-like magic traveled down Dumbledore's arm and into Tom's ear.
"I'm sorry to tell you, my boy, that I can't hire you. You're far too young and inexperienced." Tom looked forlorn, but after a moment, his eyes turned red with madness and he stood, a disgusted expression spreading across his handsome features. Harry was horrified as he looked between Dumbledore and Tom. This was the moment that sparked the beginning of the wizarding war. Something grabbed him by the collar and yanked him out from the pensieve. The cabinet doors swung shut as if he had never been there. Panting heavily, Harry stared up at the thing that pulled him out. Fawkes the bird stared down at him, perched on his chest with his beak pecking gently at Harry's nose.
"You? What?" Fawkes pressed his beak into Harry's nose, forcing him to look into his eyes. Harry's eyes widened as he saw into the bird's mind. "You're-" Harry's attention snapped to the door as he heard the dull scraping sound the bird statue made as it spun its way up to the office. Fawkes sighed and grabbed Harry by the collar with his strong talons. With great strength that didn't seem like it could have come from such a small bird, Fawkes hauled Harry out a window and away from Dumbledore.
Fawkes set Harry down at the top of the clocktower. The large timepieces groaning slowly as the clock ticket, contrasting greatly with the rapid hammering of Harry's own heart.
"You!" Harry said, pointing dumbly at Fawkes. "You're Dumbledore! Dumbledore isn't Dumbledore!" Fawkes squawked and rolled his eyes, looking for all the world like he was smiling. Fawkes's eyes bored into Harry's eyes and a deep voice echoed through his head.
Right you are, my boy, Dumbledore said. The voice sounded like Dumbledore, but somehow it was more real. It was the difference between a very good counterfeit painting and the real deal. Relief flooded through Harry's chest.
"Everyone said you were a champion of the good, but the you back there, I-" Harry's eyes filled with tears and he swallowed hard, trying to force down a lump in his throat.
I understand, Dumbledore said again. I am not a perfect man, Harry. I've made mistakes. My greatest regret, however, is that the sick creature living in my skin has hurt you so.
"But you're here in spite of it all. You're watching him, looking after me. You-you came to me in the chamber. You saved my life."
I could not sit by and watch. I have been watching for many years. It is gratifying to finally speak to you, dear boy.
"Crouch, he-how could he? Is that thing that possessed you possessing him too?" Fawkes shook his head.
Barty always had the potential to create great evil in him. It was fortunate that his political career prevented him from descending past the point of no return. That is no longer true.
"Barty Jr. is alive," Harry gasped. "He's helping Tom. The old Tom. I fixed him." Fawkes's feathers fluffed up and he shook himself. Tears flowed from his eyes.
That is...better news than I have had in decades. I always hoped…
"Be careful," Harry said, staring scandalized the tears that dropped on the floor. "Those are valuable." Fawkes chortled in what could only have been a laugh.
"Tom? Are you breathing? Talk to me, come on. I'm dying here," Harry said, pacing around the room of requirement later that night, mirror in hand. Tom's eyes were wide enough for Harry to see the whites of his eyes and he sat frozen in shock.
"You're saying that all those years ago, the person who denied my request to teach at Hogwarts was not Dumbledore?"
"No, it was some kind of malignant force. This is all so crazy. I don't know what to do with myself. Dumbledore's a good person! Everything good he did in the past was real!"
"I'm glad you're happy, Harry, but what are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know. I need to know more about trying to get Dumbledore back into his body. I need to confer with, er, my necromantic advisors. I'm not powerful enough yet and I don't know what I'm going up against."
"I'll do some research on my end," Tom said, worrying his bottom lip. "But don't think I forgot about the fact that you got bloody stabbed in the last challenge."
"I'm alright now," Harry said shrinking a bit at the anger in Tom's voice.
"I know," Tom said, calming down. "I'm just frustrated that I'm not there with you to help you through this."
"I don't think the dark lord just waltzing into Hogwarts is going to go unnoticed. What are you up to, anyway? Where are you?" Tom was sitting in what looked like a tent. Harry never thought of Tom as the camping type.
"I'm in the woods somewhere in Scotland," he said. "I've been after the werewolves. Fenrir Greyback wouldn't let me speak freely to his flock, so I executed him. I've got a few werewolves on my side now, but I have to weed out some of the radicalized ones. The ones that want a world full of werewolves are dangerous. Lycanthropy should be a choice. It started as a brotherhood of willing members and it's now a disease."
"Fenrir Greyback? Isn't he the one who bit Lupin?"
"Oh yes, forgot about him. He's your friend, isn't he?"
"Yes, but he's not exactly enthused about his condition."
"Well he should be enthused. Lycanthropy, as long as it is controlled, is a great and powerful state of being. If you fight it, you take ill. If you work with it, you thrive. Simple as that. The remaining werewolves are lost without a leader, but they were all unwilling victims who want to go back to being normal wizards, not that they know how."
"I'll talk to Lupin. He understands their situation better than anyone. All wizarding education condemns dark creatures. It's unfair to persecute werewolves when it's a perfectly manageable condition nowadays."
"You sure you don't want to go into politics?"
"And deal with the mess that is the Ministry of Magic? No thank you."
Harry continued his training with Moody, Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick as usual and he was making good progress. The four professors even teamed up to fight him from time to time. Those battles usually ended in losses, but he didn't mind losing to at least three of the world's greatest spellcasters. Moody, or whoever he was, was good, but because Harry didn't know who the man really was, he didn't want to assume he was some greatly accomplished wizard. His lessons with Legion were growing equally intense.
"Child," the shade of Lily Potter said one morning as they trained in the room of requirement, "it is time you turn your powers inward. No matter how great your competency with souls, you cannot manipulate the dead if you are one of their ranks."
"So, what are you teaching me to stop myself from dying? That would be useful since I come close to it several times a year."
"This skill is not to be trifled with. It is greatly harmful to a wizard's magical core and only lasts for a limited time depending on how close to death you are. It will give you just enough time to escape danger, but you must tend to your body quickly or death will come no matter what you do." Harry gulped. Legion was serious at the best of times, but its voice was more unsettling than usual.
"You know how to keep a person in stasis, to stop time for but a while and keep their bodies from aging."
"Yes, and I use their own magic to do it so that it is self sustaining. What of it?"
"You can do this to your own body. It is taxing, especially if you are still conscious. Part of your body will remain in stasis while the rest of you is still functioning." Harry nodded contemplatively. He understood the theory of stopping a body's time. Readying himself, he settled on experimenting with his leg. He bound the part of his soul in his leg in the astral plane with a web of magic, sectioning it off from the rest of the plane. His leg went cold and numb, with no blood moving through it at all. It was a strange sensation and he lost his balance, falling to the ground. Soon, he grew used to the sensation and stood. As he cut off the spell, he felt winded and needed to sit down to catch his breath.
"Yeah, that's no joke," he said, laughing. Legion did not look amused.
"What? You've been awfully downcast since the end of the second challenge. I know you're a conglomeration of spirits, but you're usually more personable than this."
"Recent events have troubled us," Legion said, face placid despite the rumblings of its voice. "We believe that the creature possessing the old one is related to the being Death." Harry froze.
"The Death, as in the thing that made the dementors?"
"The same."
"Is it Death that I saw go into Dumbledore?"
"We are uncertain. We knew the energy when we saw it in the vision. This should not have been possible. Death does not touch living souls. We hope dearly that this is not the case. We do not wish another war."
"You and me both," Harry said, raking a hand through his hair.
Harry called Sirius and Lupin through the floo network one night after classes were over.
"Harry! Sirius told me you were stabbed?" Lupin's face was lit in green flames.
"I'm fine, Professor Lupin," Harry sighed. "Madame Pomfrey and smethwyck healed me up."
"I'm not your professor anymore," Lupin said, smirking. "You should call me Lupin. You call Sirius by his name after all."
"Okay, but it's going to take me a while. That's weird. You still call McGonagall professor. Don't be surprised if I can't break the habit. What's going on over there?" Harry struggled to see what was going on in the background. He could hear pieces of wood clattering to the ground and Sirius yelling at something in the background.
"Sirius is renovating again. He refuses to use magic because he likes getting his hands dirty."
"Have at you!" Sirius yelled in the background.
"Actually, it's more like dueling with the baseboards," Lupin said, chuckling. Harry smiled. They both seemed happy.
"It must be nice to have him back."
"It is," Lupin said, sighing contentedly. "It's just too bad your dad's not here with us. He's the only one we can never get back. Ah, well, stranger things have happened. I thought Sirius was lost to me forever just last year."
"How have you been managing your transformations?"
"There's a reinforced room here. I transform in there and Sirius keeps me company." He was blase about it as usual. Harry cleared his throat.
"I have some news for you," he began, "and you're going to have a lot of questions, but I can't really answer them for you."
"Uh, okay," Lupin said, looking behind him before bringing his attention back to Harry. "Fire away."
"Fenrir Greyback is dead." Lupin's jaw dropped and he exhaled deeply.
"I-I do have questions," Lupin said, wagging a finger at Harry, "but if you can't say, then I respect your wishes, I suppose. H-how did it happen?"
"It doesn't matter. He's gone and all the werewolves that were with him are trying to get on with life. He turned them unwillingly like he turned you."
"What are you saying?"
"You've been coping for so long. You could help them. They could help you too. I've heard the transformation is less lonely in a group." Lupin rubbed his face with his hands.
"I don't know. I've never tried-Are you sure they're willing to return to wizarding society? Greyback had them living in the wilderness."
"Yes. Don't ask me how I know, but I know."
"Ok, Harry," Lupin said, sounding unsure, but with a new fire in his eyes he'd never seen before. "I'll do it."