We Are Eternal

by KhaosOnion

Harry Potter is not the Wizard people expected him to be. He has traversed the dark, and it is down to those around him to bring him into the light. He has suffered, but because of it, he will become strong.

38. 3rd Task

Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter

"Mr Potter, the process is not one that can simply be performed overnight," spoke McGonagall. "The path to the true transformation can take a long time, or a short time, but never immediately." She waved her wand, conjuring drawings of half-human, half-animal crossbreeds. "Only a fool of a Witch or Wizard would ever attempt to try to become an Animagus without thorough thought and preparation. I do, however, appreciate the question."

Harry nodded his head, understanding her point. "I was just wondering is all Professor. Sirius and Remus have explained some things about it to me, but I wanted to clarify it with you first."

"And what would a Werewolf and a failed ruffian blood-traitor know about such things?" Daphne Greengrass asked with a haughty smirk.

"Well, Miss Greengrass," interrupted their professor, "Remus Lupin is a master of knowledge in such things, especially considering his condition; Mr Black, though a rogue, was skilled enough to become an Animagus without any coaching or training at the same age as you four." The pale skinned girl's teeth were heard clenching from where Harry sat next to Hermione, who was quickly taking notes. "I may have chosen you, and the rest, out of your year due to your skill and strengths with Transfiguration, yet do not believe for a second that I will not remove you from this discussion if I believe you to be a detriment to learning. Am I understood?"

"Yes. Professor." Her teeth were still clenched.

"Focus is required, Miss Greengrass," she stared at the girl with barely concealed disdain. "Focus I do not believe you to possess. Gather your things and leave this classroom. I am not loathe to admit when I am wrong."

The girl grabbed her belongings and stormed out, though Harry swore he saw a wetness build in her eyes, he could not be a hundred percent sure about that.

"Mr Potter, Miss Granger, and Miss Bones, I trust that the three of you will remain in good standing within this room?" The three nodded in assent, though an unsure Susan would glance at Harry every now and then with a clenched fist. "Is there a problem, Miss Bones."

"I apologise, Professor."

"See that your prejudices are left at the door."

"Wait, Professor McGonagall, I don't have any- "

"Miss Bones! Out!"

When only the two Gryffindors were left with their teacher, Minerva McGonagall let out a tired sigh.

"Professor, are you okay?"

She gave a small smile. One which Harry knew was fake, having seen his own reflection at times, but chose not to dwell on it. "Of course, Mr Potter, I just despair with students sometimes. This is a House of learning, not squabbles among children.

"Though I do believe that you surpass even your father with such matters," she finished with a grin.

"My father?"

"Oh yes," McGonagall took a seat, while Harry idly took notice of Hermione squirming in her chair beside him, his focus was wholly on his teacher. "James was… a difficult student. Incredibly skilled at the Art of Transfiguration, but difficult nonetheless."

Harry could see her eyes glaze over slightly, so lost in the past that she was. He had only ever heard fleeting tales of James Potter, though the sting of the what-ifs and could-have-beens still stung him deeply. His parents could have run. Fled the country. Used themselves as Secret Keepers. Anything. Something more could have been done to keep them with him and not alone in the house he grew up in.

A deeper part, one that wanted his father with him, was entranced. So much had been told to him of Lily Potter, and Sirius was loathe to tell him anything about James. His Godfather's demons still haunted him.

"He was such a troublemaker, that boy was. Of course, Sirius being his closest friend did not assist him in any way, shape, or form. Then they became that quartet. Magic came naturally to your father, as it did to your mother, though Lily was the more academic one, a reflection I see in yourself. James… well, his was instinct and the way he was raised. There is some truth in Pureblood families' traditions, namely that of family Magick's, and the Potter's had always been strange in theirs."

"Are you saying that the Pureblooded are correct, Professor?" asked an aghast Hermione.

"You should know me better that that, Miss Granger," she snapped back. "No, I am saying that the older families have had centuries to develop magic unique to their bloodlines. Successful magic that is passed down through generations and hoarded jealously. The Black family encompasses Dark, hedonistic, rituals that elevate their bodies and minds above 'lesser folk' as they enjoy saying. The Malfoy family, for example, have access to a swathe of esoteric Mind Magick's that have purportedly granted them the wherewithal they currently possess. Miss Bones' family name is such for a reason, though I believe that their Necromantic days are, at least publicly, far behind them.

"The Potter's, I believe were all based on empathetic, emotional magic. James allowed his emotions to run free, though he was always in control, which allowed him to perform a greater range of magic than his peers. If anything of the Potter Grimoire still exists, I would guarantee you would become even more of a great Wizard, Mr Potter."

She took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly as she looked into the distance. "James was a wonderful child. So many people forget how kind and supportive he was to all he met. In fact, and I must demand that you tell no one of this," two nods of agreement followed, "he even attempted to befriend Professor Snape in their younger years."

"But he hates my father," Harry said with some confusion. "And me," he followed, more quietly.

"It is not hate," she said with little conviction, and a hint of annoyance that the two students could sense were not aimed at Harry. "Severus' actions at the time were one of petty rivalry that escalated out of control. I know not who began their feud, only that James and Severus had been at each other's throats since their younger years. You must understand that for your father, everything came naturally. He never needed to apply himself, as magic was simply a part of who and what he was. Yet above all of that, he was still one of the most friendly, approachable, slightly narcissistic, rambunctious troublemakers, that has ever graced the halls of Hogwarts.

"Harry, I see so much of Lily within you. Others will say the same. Yet none of the others saw passed the pranking troublemaker your father showed the world. He was truly one of the sweetest boys I have ever taught. Always willing to help anyone who asked him of it. Of course, he developed an arrogance that I could not abide by, but he was so in tune with the emotions of not only he, but everyone who was around him. Many would decry him for how he treated some students, almost to the sense of bullying… though I always wondered. Could he sense the darkness that was prevalent in their hearts? Did he know something that he was too afraid to tell me?"

The room went silent. It was almost haunting.

"I wonder, though. So much I wonder." Her eyes turned towards him, piercing through to his soul. "I know that he loved you more than anything else in the world. I needed not be so attuned to emotions, to see something that affected the whole world with his actions."

It was but a few short hours later that Harry found himself by the fireplace, nestled into a comfortable armchair, sipping away at a small cup of tea within Professor Flitwick's office. Said Charms Professor was sat contentedly nearby, chatting away merrily to a still-alert Mad-Eye Moody.

"Minnie tells me that you could advance to Animagus training soon," the ex-Auror grunted out. "Takes some skill, that does."

The gruff man had spoken in a soft tone, and his eye was fixed upon him, but none of this unsettled Harry. He suspected that most people tried to put on airs and graces whilst around the scarred and brutalised man, but Harry's responses towards him were natural. Professor Dumbledore had told him once that Moody was an excellent judge of character, though still incredibly paranoid for good reason, and for the experienced Professor, for him to let his guard down around him was remarkable.

"Harry, my boy, what's wrong? You seem a little bit off today," Flitwick had intervened when the time of the silence had become too much for the room to bare.

"It's nothing."

"Potter, it isn't nothing. Now, spill." Moody's eye span around once, then focused back upon him.

"Professor McGonagall talked to me about my dad." The room warmed slightly, before settling into a calm aura. "I just don't really know what to feel."

Moody 'hmmed' as he sat back into his chair. "Parents aren't the be all and end all, Potter." A snort erupted from his mouth as he took a swig of his flask. "My father was a rotten bastard that showed only a false face to the world, while my mother was a weak woman who hid behind a cowl of strength. Though I guess I should thank them both, really, for preparing me for the life I had."

"Harry, it is okay to be confused by everything, even now."

"Professor… what was my mum really like? I hear stories about her being some kind of amazing paragon, but…"

"You want to know what she really was?" Flitwick nodded in understanding. "People do not wish to desecrate the memories of the dead by telling their loved ones how bad they truly were, even going as far as telling lies to the world. True, I wonder how many people that everyone is told were good, kind people, are just being fed a bed of lies."

"The world is a cruel place, Potter. It is good that you decide to question it." Another swig of the flask. "Though remember, no matter what, you are your own will."

"I did not see or know of Lily other that the experiences that I had as her teacher. Yet this does not mean that I did not see things or hear things."

"Professor, I don't know what to do about Sev," she said to me. I can still remember the frustration in her eyes. "He slips away, further and further, every single day that passes. I've always known that he had a love of the Dark, but I-I thought I could at least temper it. He isn't a bad person, and he's still my friend."

"But you don't know for how much longer that will hold," I knew what she was saying. I had seen Severus' descent into the abstract reaches of magic. One that I did not like but could not dissuade him from. You know, don't you Harry? You don't have to answer, I'm sure that Sirius has filled you in on Severus Snape's past. I sigh because he was such a bright mind. But filled with petty jealousy. And rage. And hate. But his Envy was his catalyst to his descending to the world of shadow and despair.

Your mother stood by him, until she could bare the weight of his sins no longer. She was loyal – her loyalty matched your own I would say – and calm, and caring, and so full of love.

But love is so close to hate and can easily turn. When Severus came out of the hiding spot, I knew that then I had seen a Witch who should not be crossed. You want the truth of this, Harry? She was vengeful, and petty, and quick to anger. Loving? Yes, she was that and so much more. But Severus was her friend, and had been for so very long, that when things no longer went her way, she took it out upon him and his ilk.

Severus did many horrible things to her, yet not even his actions compared to how she treated poor Septima.

"Sir, I can't take it anymore. McGonagall won't do anything! I just want her to leave! Leave, and never come back! She makes me sick; she drives me up the wall, and sometimes… sometimes I wish she was never here at all."

The two were never 'best friends' as I would define it, but they were close. Closer than anyone. Though I wonder sometimes if Septima's viewpoint has ever been skewed, however unintentionally it was, by her interactions with Lily Evans. Something happened in the waning time they spent here at Hogwarts. Lily, who was ever joined at the hip to Miss Vector, distanced herself from the poor girl. Septima was near inconsolable by the end, and herself, became full of rage. Though, as far as I am aware, she never joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, I believe she may have immersed herself in that world, nevertheless. She was such a shy, timid, little thing back then. I believe that Lily was her tether to reality, and when she vanished from her world, it snapped the two of them irreparably.

I know nothing of what transpired between the two girls, yet something vicious emerged in Lily. Such an opposite for a girl so full of love.

"Yo, Professor F, can I talk to you about Evans?"

James was difficult. So very difficult to deal with. Yet, he was the one who stepped up in the end. Dumbledore would know the whole story, but I have so many students over the years come to me with issues that I try to resolve. I wish I could remember them as they were, your parents, but even I must admit that what became of them has skewed my own perception.

"The two of them were a force to be reckoned with, Potter." Moody tipped the sliver flask back, allowing him to drain it of its last dregs of whatever liquid was inside. "The Dark Lord sent an envoy to the two of them upon their graduation day. He was even willing to look passed your mother's blood status so to have them both within his ranks. Some of the captured Death Eaters claimed he had had a moment of madness, but in hushed whispers.

"They turned him down flat, but then he tried again, only this time, he sent Iscariot after them – one of the organisations that had allied with him in the War. I was not there for the fight, but it apparently ruined their Wedding Day, killed two attendees, and wounded four more. It's said that the Dark Lord himself had used ritual magic to boost their powers, and yet it still was not enough.

"Then, the third and final time. Your father's house was obliterated. Reduced to nothing more than ash in the wind. He came to them, shouting words of encouragement to the two, and yet… they responded with spellfire and curses that we all joined with."

Filius Flitwick nodded along with Alastor Moody's words. "Harry, we are not the lives of those who come before us. We must needs understand that those who we believe should be respected, should only be respected for their deeds, not who they are. Your mother and father were good people and loved you so much so that they gave their lives so you could live. Never forget their sacrifice, but do not forget to become you, and not a shadow of their memories."

The lesson had barely just begun, and yet the lack of air and excess of heat was already causing Harry to sweat. The potion required them all to have their flames burn incredibly hot, and the effect of it all was causing Harry's hair to stick to his face. He turned to his left, seeing a flushed looking Tracey wipe her hand across her brow to move her locks away from her eyes. He was forced to stifle a small giggle when he heard her grumblings.

Snape had been quiet as of late, though with a trained Seeker's eye, he could see the mask begin to fade away as it crumbled by the day. 'It won't be long now, and then he will be back to his old ways. I just wish he could see beyond James Potter.'

The Professor's voice was always low in volume, he always managed to obtain a class's respect, even if they disliked him. "You have five more minutes until the end of the lesson. If any of you dunderheads have managed to instil even the smallest modicum of talent within the potion's you are brewing, then we shall see if there has been any success here." He swept across the room with unmatched stealth. "Such as here, with Mr Malfoy. His potion has already become the translucent golden-brown as such is required. Ten points to Slytherin, for such skill here."

The man moved back behind his desk, the chalk upon the board rewriting with a wave of the Potions Master's wand. The final stages of the potion became words etched themselves before them.

"We've got this, Harry," his partner whispered close to his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. "Just follow my lead, and we can get out of this lesson with no issue."

He nodded his head. The stuffiness of the room was making him lightheaded and slightly faint, but he swallowed deeply and went about finishing the set task. He could see Hermione rushing around like a madwoman as she attempted to assist Neville with their potion, something the whole room wished for her to succeed in so that another Longbottom catastrophe could be avoided.

"Oi, Potty." The voice was hushed, though by the small twitch in Snape's jaw, Harry knew the man was listening. "The last task is coming up. I've got a bet on with the rest of the House, and with my father. He seems to think you might actually survive, but I have already put a few gold on at least a couple of limbs gone. Heh, even Davis put money on it, she seems to think that you will not even complete whatever it is."

A slam struck the table, making everyone jump, and causing the near-perfect potion to become an ugly green colour. "You know that isn't true, Malfoy."

"Don't listen to her Potty. She knows your true colours are yellow, is that not right?"

"Malfoy- "

"You shut your mouth, Snake." Everyone in the room was listening now, and even Severus Snape had a look of some shock as he saw who had spoken. "Potter will not only finish the task, he'll win the who damn thing, so shut your slimy mouth. Potter could wipe the floor with the rest of them: Cedric, Fleur, Krum – it doesn't matter who he goes up against."

"Well, well, well. Looks like the Weasel has become your fanboy, Potty. What sort of things have you been doing to get him on your side? Been paying in coin? Or is it something else? The Veela seems to be hanging off your arm lately, and you haven't even been trying anything with her. Of course, she knows what a real Wizard should be like, which is why she was latching on to my every word. Ah! I bet she has been pitying you, or maybe even teaching you how to get a Wizard of your own?"

The House of Green laughed uproariously, with even a rare smirk planting itself on their Professor's face.

Ron Weasley, who had stood up to defend his Housemate, sat down abruptly, burying his head in his arms as his face matched the shade of his hair.

"Quiet." The room silenced quickly, though titters still bounced off the walls intermittently. "Though I am not one to… comment… on Mr Potter's proclivities, this is still a room of learning." He glanced at an empty hourglass sat atop his desk. "And would you look at that, time is up. Tut, tut. Potter and Davis. A failure once more it seems. Though for you to drag one of my Slytherins down with you… that will be twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention with me this Saturday." The Gryffindors almost erupted with anger. "SILENCE! I will not be shouted at by my own students. That will be another twenty points for such action. Potter, remain behind."

Harry sat there, red-hot tears clouding his vision as the warmth of the room met the heat of his heart. "Professor…"

"No, Potter, you will listen to me." A heaviness hit him as the room cooled instantaneously. "Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black will not save you this time, Potter." The man's face did not show anger. Only his eyes revealed his hate. "For too long since you have stepped foot inside this castle have I allowed you to strut around like your father, as if you own the school. You are no Wizard. You are a failure who has ridden the coattails of those who are your betters. Your so called 'skill' is nothing more than a freak of nature."

Harry's heart bled as his mind went numb. That word. It was always that word. "Sir, why do you hate me?"

He did not hear him. "Albus Dumbledore will never remove me from here. He knows that he cannot, for there are secrets that not even he can deem right for the light of day. Did you believe that I knew naught of you and that mongrel's attempts to displace me? He knows of my words to you here today, as it shall be I that tells him, as is my right as a teacher to cull the behaviour of my wayward student. Or will you run to Black, I presume? No, I think not. You are too proud and pompous, too good for the rest of us, are you not?

"Potter. Do not disrupt my class ever again, do you hear me?"

The pause lasted an eternity. "Yes, Professor."

A face of victory. "Good. Get out."

Harry ran out of the room, sprinting passed Fay and Neville who chased after him. He could hear the familiar braying laughter of Draco Malfoy following him as he made his way up the stairs and back into the castle proper.

"'Arry?" He stopped his run, breath haggard and his face still swamped with sweat from the run and the Potions classroom. He felt two slender arms pull him into an embrace as his body felt heavy. "Eets okay, no need for hurry, non?"

She led him into the Great Hall, where dinner was beginning to be served. He could see fuming Lion's faces begin to form in the minutes that followed, as his yearmates began to tell the tale of what occurred in the dungeons. Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick began their own glares at the emerged Snape, while Dumbledore looked at the man in severe disappointment. Eventually, the Headmaster pulled Snape aside in what must have been a private conversation, though Harry saw him thrust his arm forward to a steadily paling Dumbledore's direction.

Ludo Bagman appeared near the end of the meal, and it was then that Harry realised he was seated at the Ravenclaw table next to Fleur, and Katie as well who had also traversed House boundaries.

"Harry, Miss Delacour, I have already spoken to Mr's Diggory and Krum. Would the two of you make your way down to the Quidditch Pitch as soon as possible? There is Tournament business we must discuss." The man clapped once, gave a wink to Harry, a slight bow to Fleur, and went off whistling a jaunty tune.

Harry and Fleur looked at each other simultaneously, each cracking a small smile at their shared humorousness at the simplicity and pomposity of the man.

"Shall we, 'Arry?"

He nodded his head once, turning to Katie as he took a large gulp of water. "You'll be okay? Do you want me to come along?"

"'Arry weel be een zafe 'ands wiz me, you can be sure of zat," Fleur answered for him.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the two girls' behaviour, with Katie looking slightly cross after Fleur's interruption. "I'll be fine, Katie, I promise."

The girl stood up, planting a chaste kiss upon his cheek. "I'll see you later, then. I'll let Fay and Neville know where you are, if they don't already know – Bagman isn't the quietest of people after all. And mister," she poked his nose with a thin finger, "We will be having a chat later about a certain Professor, and what we can do about it. Honestly, it almost terrifies me that such a person can get away with everything that he does, and still not be thrown out."

"Katie," Harry pulled her into a tight hug, "Okay."

"Good." She looked almost triumphant. "Now, get going, and don't be too late."

The two Champions turned as one, walking side by side out of the Great Hall, with only the breeze taking their words away with them. They settled into an easier conversation than they had been enduring during dinner, as the worry and stress began to ebb away into the realms of Mnemosyne.

"I deed not like zis land when I first came 'ere, you know?" Harry was looking down at the path before him, feeling as if a weight had been lifted as the Quidditch Pitch came closer and closer into his view. "Zis country, zis place… eet meant nozzing to me. All we are taught eez about ze 'Eengleesh Barbarians'. 'Zey are rude and 'orrible.' Only ever told zo many zings."

"And. What do you think now?"

"I zink… I zink zat maybe not all are as bad as we are told."

They kept their steady pace, but Harry turned his head slightly, catching Fleur mimicking his action. A sly look shone from her eyes, while a wicked smirk reminiscent of the Weasley Twins parted slightly to reveal the tip of her tongue poking out slightly in her teasing way.

"First, I probably wouldn't refer to everyone here as 'English'. Hogwarts has loads of students from all over the place. England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, their sister republic, the Channel Islands. There are a few from further afield too. Like Belgium, Iceland, and a couple from Portugal." He giggled slightly at her huff of mock annoyance. "And anyway, I think I might have grown on you."

"Hmm, do not tell anyone, zo. Eet might ruin my reputation."

Their laughter danced around them, and Harry no longer remembered the misery of before, as it vanished into nothingness.

Krum shouted to them as they made it through the Arena walkway and into what was once Charmed grass, set to remain ever perfect. "Harry. Do you see how they have made this place?"

"It does seem a bit… bumpy," he replied.

"It is more than that!" grunted Viktor. "They have ruined it!"

"Now, now, boys," Bagman paused in his speech. "And lady." A wide, caricaturised smile plastered itself upon him as if he were the Cheshire Cat. "Now- gather round you four, gather round!"

The four Champions made their way to what was once the edge of the Quidditch Pitch. Harry felt a slight graze of Fleur's hand glide across the back of his own. He did not need to turn to look at her to know she was smiling. "Your pitch looks better, non?"

"Better?" Cedric and Krum shouted in unison.

Bagman had heard their interaction, as he let out a full, belly-laugh. "Come now, children, Hogwarts's precious pitch will be as right as rain by the time the season reopens in September – we can have Diggory and Potter duelling in the air once more without refrain soon enough. For now, we have to wait for Barty to come on over as well. He should only be a few minutes."

The five who stood there, remained in silence, each contemplating the meaning behind this; a wonder was forming of what the significance of what they saw actually was.

"Do you think you will go back to Quidditch? After the Tournament is over?"

Harry thought over Krum's question. He had been given leave for the year from his team, as the owner and manager both believed that he should focus on trying to survive the coming storm. "Probably. I love being in the sky, and I really do enjoy Quidditch."

"But?"

"But I have too much to do. Too much I want to do. I think I'll do it for a while, after this, I mean. Long enough to best you in a rematch."

"Ah, Barty! Good to see you, my man"

"Yes, yes. Let us get this over with. Though I do not know why I must be here, seeing as how it will be you that takes over the speech."

"It's just how it is to be done!" His grin was almost infectious, and Harry could not help himself as his lips twitched upwards. The man may be as subtle as a raging hippo, but he had a strange sort of innocent charisma about him. "But yes, everybody, gather round, gather round." He waited for the group to come slightly closer, and his beaming grin faded a little as everybody was still spaced about. "No matter. Now, what do we think this is, do I wonder?"

"It's a maze," Krum provided.

"Exactly. A maze. But it will be more than that, in the end. For the maze will be of the Green. All Professors of Hogwarts shall provide certain… obstacles that shall be reflected upon their professions within said maze. Pomona has provided the maze itself. A living, breathing, wonder of nature. It shall be bolstered and moved further into the realms of magicka by our resident Potions master, and granted greater power by magics combined by Runes, Arithmancy, and Astronomical avenues.

"There shall be charms and transfigurations aplenty, and dangers wrought with the," Bagman's voice dropped in an attempt to induce suspense. "Dark Arts. And, finally, of course, there shall be beasts and ghouls rampaging throughout, helpfully supplied by Rubeus Hagrid. The three schools shall cooperate on this matter, so as not to create a form of bias."

"Ludovic. I believe that is enough time. I have to return to the office, and you are the one holding on to Dumbledore's created Portkey. So, hurry it up."

"Oh, Barty," Bagman shouted, "Why must you always try to drain the fun out of things." When the man simply grunted in reply and took out a pocket watch, Ludo Bagman simply sighed. "Fine, fine. I myself intend to sample some of Rosmerta's brews. So, take the damn Portkey." Crouch took the proffered item, and without even a 'farewell', turned his back and left to go wherever it was he intended to.

"Do we still need to be here, sir?" Cedric asked with slight impatience.

"Oh, no. Not at all! You four may continue with your day. Though… Mr Potter, do you mind if we have a little chat? Nothing insidious, trust me! I only want to talk and reminisce about my old Quidditch days."

Harry looked over to Viktor in an almost pleading way, only to receive a slight grin and a shake of his head.

"Come now, Mr Potter. We can walk and talk."

Harry bid his goodbyes to the trio, Fleur sending a quizzical look that ceased when Harry sent her a small smile and a subtle wave of his hand. As they drifted from sight, Harry and Ludovic Bagman began walking as a pair towards the direction of the School Gates.

"Well now, Mr Potter, to think that you would make it this far. Astounding if you ask me." Harry remained silent as a shyness came to him suddenly. "To think that this all began some months ago when you put your name into the Cup."

"But sir, I didn't do that."

The man ignored his response. "Old Barty told me from the start, 'Ludovic, that boy will make it to the finale, you can be sure of that'. Didn't believe him at the beginning, but, well, guess I was wrong on that wasn't I?" The man's laugh was annoying, but Harry's only response was a twitch of his hand, the scar upon it from his first year sending a slight burn throughout his arm. "That thing with the Dragon, and then the Lake. Well, it's almost as if some hand of the divine was assisting you, isn't it?"

Harry frowned, distaste filling his mouth as he caught the meaning behind the words. 'Do people think I'm cheating?'

"Sir."

"Ludo, Harry. Or, if you cannot say that, then at least call me Bagman."

"Mr Bagman, I'm not having anyone do the work for me, and I'm not cheating."

Bagman recoiled slightly at the harsh tone that erupted from the young Gryffindor. "Of course not." The words did not match the intent. "It's just a little strange is all. Though you must admit it, to think that someone so young could do all the things you do. There are all sorts of rumblings about you in the Ministry, of course. Tales of psychotic teachers and giant snakes… it's almost as if they were part of some story or something. Though, to be perfectly honest with you, I was a non-believer until I saw the scars by the Lake. That one on your arm? Is that where the snake bit you?"

"Yes, Mr Bagman. A Basilisk."

Snapping. Roaring. Screams that echoed in his ears. Help me! Pain. So much pain that he thought he was dissolving from the inside.

"How did you survive that?"

"Why are you asking me this, sir?"

"No one can survive the venom of a Basilisk, even I know that."

Harry grit his teeth together sharply, exhaling as he twitched. The phantom pains flared up every now and then, and the haunting nightmares would flare up even now. "Professor Dumbledore's Phoenix save me. His tears cleaned the wound and saved my life."

Bagman made a contemplative sound. "You know, the odds on your victory, coming back with the Triwizard Cup, began very, very, low. I think at the start it was at something like 800 to 1. I enjoy a little game with coin here and there, so put a few Galleons on that to start – how could I not with such a potentially high return? Unfortunately, I placed quite a lot on Mr Krum. He's doing very well, but I was wondering if I shouldn't just cut my losses and put a bit more on yourself?"

Harry understood now why the man was talking so intently with him. The man was a gambler, and appeared set to lose if Harry won, even if his return was potentially enormous.

"Why are you telling me this, sir?"

"I'm just saying, Mr Potter, that if you were to say… stumble… at the last hurdle. Then who knows? Maybe losing out on the Tournament winnings wouldn't be too bad for yourself?"

Harry froze, span on his heel, and walked away from the man. He could hear pleading shouts behind him, but simply picked up his pace, and dashed back to the castle.

Does it really matter if I win or lose? Mr Crouch said that things could go really bad for me if I do not compete, so does that mean if I intentionally try to lose, the same thing could happen? People die in this Tournament, but would it be so bad if I gave up and kept my life? Yet, he said that someone lost their loved one due to forfeiting. Could that happen to me too? Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why can I not just have a normal life?

His thoughts followed him up to the Astronomy Tower, where he sat in quiet contemplation for the rest of the evening. Fay had found him quickly, and with a hesitant tone, he asked if he could be alone for a while, as he just wanted some space to think.

When the sky had darkened, and a slight chill had hit the air, Hedwig had swooped down to his shoulder gracefully, immediately doing her best to cheer her owner up.

"Hedwig, you can always find me, can't you?" His owl barked lowly, brushing her head into his hair as if she was trying to calm him. "Hah." He laughed once and closed his eyes, his hand coming up to gently brush at her feathers in a practiced movement. He did not know how, but when the morning light swept though the fourth year Gryffindor Dormitory, he awoke in his bed, Hedwig perched atop his headboard like a guardian angel.

He had not slept well. In fact, the morning of Saturday 24th June was one of thrown sheets, tossed pillows, and frantic attempts to put the coming day out of his head. The curtains were open slightly, as the sunlight beamed onto him through the centre opening. He groaned despondently, knowing that the coming storm was one he was not looking forward to.

The day was the Final Task of the Tournament, and though Harry had prepared for this day, it was still not one that he was excited for. According to the other Champions, he was not alone in this way of thinking.

"Harry," Cedric had said, "I am absolutely bricking it, mate. I keep wondering what drove me to put my name in the Goblet. I just can't get this feeling out of my head that something's going to go wrong for me in the Task, and I hate it. I totally, and completely, hate this."

The school was still out for blood, too. It seemed sometimes that only the House of Red and Gold were his only protectors, with the constant snide comments from most of the other Houses, and even the foreign schools. Many still believed that he had cheated his way in, and nothing he could say or do could stop their thoughts become action.

"Potter!" Harry turned sharply, almost knocking Neville out of the way as the thunking sound of Moody's walk came closer and closer to them. "A word. Longbottom can come too if he likes."

"S-s-sorry, Professor," Neville squeaked out, his constant terror of their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher revealing itself. "I have to…" He ran without another word, leaving Harry in his wake.

"Hah! Still got it. A pity though."

Harry followed the man to his office, not too far from where they had been. "Sir – Professor – what's this about?"

"Have a seat, Potter," the man grunted as he sat down in a comfortable looking armchair, his wand upon the armrest with his hand resting upon it. Harry took note that he was sat almost in a corner, a clear line of sight to the door and all windows in the room. "Tea? I don't have any myself, but I'm sure an Elf could rustle some up for you."

"No, thank you, sir. I think I will be okay. Will this take long, only I need- "

"To go train, right? Hah! CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Always a need to be prepared. Especially with what you have coming your way." Moody's grin was vicious, and painful to the eyes. "You have some loyal friends, taking their time away from their own needs in order to help you. But it isn't enough. Not yet. I know of your aversions to my lesson, Potter. I agree and don't at the same time. I see a warrior in you, one maybe not of choice, but happenstance. You have the knack for survival, in more ways than one, and I know you could do well here.

"But Potter, I won't make you like me. Broken in body and mind. Heh, even old Mad-Eye knows his worth." He took a deep swig from his hip flask, wiping his hand over his mouth when he had finished drinking. "They call me mad, paranoid." He snorted. "I put most of Azkaban away, you know. Would have been more, a lot more, but the blighters kicked the bucket before I could get them there."

Harry sat silent, gripping the chair he was sat in. The man before him was like a primal terror incarnate. He had been told the stories of the Legend of Moody, an Auror even Voldemort was wary of facing in battle. He had a warrior's instinct. One driven by years of bloodshed.

"Curses and Hexes," Moody spat onto the floor in disgust, "Are nothing compared to the fight that make for ourselves. This eye sees the physical, but this," he pointed to his sole real eye, "Sees far more. It sees the minds and behaviours of Witch and Wizard and all other things. It can see you're ready to break, and don't look down like that, many who have been through so much less have been destroyed by this specific curse."

"What curse?" whispered Harry.

"The one we create for ourselves." Another swig of the flask. "How have you been sleeping. No, you don't have to answer, I see in on your face. You can only put up that barrier for so long before the cracks begin to form, and then grow and grow. Adults can be cruel, but children can be crueller. And that Skeeter woman is simply the fan to the flame. Hah! I have been poisoned many a time by her quill, and now you feel the sting. Arrogant bitch that she is, she has her claws into this. I bet you don't even read the drivel now, huh? I don't blame you. The words can be evil, but know this, your tolerance will grow, and the pain will numb. Take it from me, laddie, take it from me.

"Hah! But how about some extra… tutoring? There's more than Tournaments to prepare for in this world!"

Harry instinctively reached for his glasses, remembering at the final moment that he no longer needed them, and grinned to himself. He stretched tiredly and prepared himself for his day. Katie was, as usual, waiting for him in the Common Room with a smile.

"Harry, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like shite."

"Thanks Katie, a good morning to you too."

"Come on, lets get some food in you." She paused to look at the tiredness in his eyes, "And maybe a lot of coffee will do you some good as well."

"Food sounds good. I'm thinking pancakes today, or maybe some porridge with lots of honey?"

Katie laughed lightly, "Alright, King Breakfast, off we go." Her hand found his, settling naturally as she pulled him out of the Common Room and down to the Great Hall.

Though she, and others, attempted to draw his mind from the impending final challenge, it was constantly at the forefront of his mind. He could see the other three Champions also going through simple motions, completely mentally idle to the world. Those around him were droning voices that he could tell almost nothing about, so far away were his thoughts.

"Mr Potter!"

He jumped with a start, flinching powerfully as he instinctively reached for his wand and his Basilisk scar at the same time. "P-Professor?"

Standing right behind him, her face leaning downwards toward him, was Minerva McGonagall. "Harry," she spoke with some exasperation as she leaned back to a full standing position, "I've bee attempting to get your attention for some time now." Her lips thinned as she took in his appearance, and her tone of voice calmed considerably. "If you would not mind following me, Harry, I do believe that I have a way to calm you. The Champion's families have arrived and are waiting for you."

"Professor?" A flash of purple and red crossed his vision, with echoes of shouts and screams. 'No, they would never come here. It can only be them!' "Of course, I'm sorry for not hearing you before." He stood on shaky legs yet feeling more light-hearted as he hoped who was going to be here for him. Harry turned to his Circle, a smiling Katie at the forefront. "I'll come see you in a bit."

Her voice was light, yet laced with poorly hidden concern, yet Katie held strong. "Go, Harry, you haven't seen them in ages, we aren't going to be upset just because you want to see them."

Harry smiled properly; the thought never crossed his mind, but he felt a joy in hearing it all the same. His small form traipsed after McGonagall as she led him away and through the castle. She was silent and her strides were long, belying her age.

Soon enough, they came to a stop in front of an ajar door, light murmurings coming from within. "And here is where I leave you, Mr Potter. Your day is free to do with what you wish. All I ask," a small grin crept up before it was immediately quashed by the woman, "Is that you keep the two of them from causing too much mayhem. Trust me, Harry, I do not wish to have more grey hairs than I already do."

Harry laughed lightly in response. "If they are who I think so, Professor, I do not think I can make any promises."

"Go on, Harry," she chuckled, "Enjoy yourself."

He pushed open the door. As he stepped foot inside, he could see the other three Champions had already claimed their spaces. Fleur was by a corner, speaking rapid French to a beautiful older woman who looked incredibly similar to her, with a man nodding his head along with whatever was being said. Fleur's sister was holding onto what must have been her father's hand as she turned slightly so see him. Harry made a small wave, which was responded with a shy one from the girl.

Two young looking adults, of whom the father was the spitting image of their son, were enjoying what appeared to be a heartfelt reunion with Viktor. Harry did not dwell too much on this as none of them looked his way.

"Harry, hey," Cedric spoke softly, as he and his parents were stood closest to the door.

He could not have uttered a single word, as a screaming missile impacted him with the force of a running train. Luckily for him, he had already spotted Dora about to begin sprinting over to him, so he had prepared his arms to wrap around the older girl's form. "Out of the way you maniac."

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, pulling his Godfather into hug of their own.

"Hey, Pup. Letters don't really feel the same as this, do they? Been causing trouble lately? Of course not, there's too much Lily in you to act as a Marauder. Though I am disappointed in you. Hogwarts is only for seven years, and you only live young once! I won't be angry if there's notice of a prank here and there! Hah!" He finished with a bark, though Harry could see his face pale and redden simultaneously, and his words were spoken rapidly.

He glanced over to Dora, who was giving the man a concerned look at the slight twitch of his eye and the exuberance of his hand gestures.

"He hasn't been able to grow up, Harry. My mum and dad told me about it. He's never been a mature guy apparently, and growing up the way he did, with the friend group he had. His maturity levels were never going to grow quickly. Then, being put into Azkaban for so long and so young…"

Sometimes, Harry would forget that Sirius was damaged. There was a passion in him, and a strength of loyalty that seemed almost impossible from anyone. But he knew one thing above all else. That Sirius needed him as much as Harry needed Sirius.

'He's here now, and that is all that matters.'

"I think the mutt's excited to see you, Harry," Dora said, not even trying to hide a snort of laughter.

"Hah. As if it were only just me. All I heard this morning was how much 'someone' couldn't wait to see their little brother again. In fact – ow! Did you just hex me?"

Dora looked suspiciously over-innocent as she blatantly put her wand away. "No idea what you're on about, Dogbreath." She turned to Harry with a smile. "So, what's the plan then? I tell you; the Elves here make amazing food and I've kinda missed it. Not to say that mum's cooking is bad, but it'll be nice to have a different change of pace for once."

"We could go back to our old haunts," said Sirius, "I wonder if the Fat Lady'll remember me. Did I ever tell you the time me and your father charmed her to get the new password before Remus could let us know? I tell you, the things we got up to in this place."

"Harry." A pause after the deep voice spoke from behind. "And family."

He turned with a smile. "Viktor. Mr Krum. Mrs Krum. Good morning to you." The four adults looked slightly shocked at his quick transition into Bulgarian, but the elder Krum's quickly slipped back into a slightly bemused, almost neutral, stance. "Viktor's been teaching me some Bulgarian. I do not think I am that great at picking up languages, but I know a little by now."

"No need to not tell the truth, Harry. You are quick learner."

"Hmm, your accent could use some work, but is good enough. It took me a while to learn it too," spoke Viktor's mother. "Do not look surprised. I met Kamen's father when we were at Durmstrang. I am Graatsia, Harry. Viktor has told us all about you."

The casual slipping in and out of English was hard for Harry to keep up with, but he understood the general gist of what was being said, then further working it out through context clues. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Krum."

"Graatsia."

"…Graatsia."

Viktor's father spoke with a great rumble, as an illusion of power swept over the room. The man truly looked like an elder Viktor, and he even had the same thick density of magic rolling off of him that his son had. "I am sorry, Harry. My father does not speak English. Father only knows our own Bulgarian, although Grandmother try to help."

Harry felt like an idiot. He looked quickly between the three Krum's, and noticed the odd line on the woman's face, and silver in her hair. His mouth opened and closed, and Harry could see the confusion start to appear on the faces of Sirius and Dora too, before realisation kicked in. Luckily, Viktor took pity on him before he could make a fool of himself.

"My mother does not wish to come to here again. The lake was not good for her. So, grandmother is here."

"Hmm, Zhivka did not listen. Not listen at all. I read the signs. She did not."

Harry and Viktor shared a look, with the elder boy shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. Harry grinned in return, as her general worrying reminded him very much of Andi after finding out about his general lack of appetite. He shook his head slowly, before stepping to the side slightly. "This is my Godfather, Sirius Black, and my sister, Dora."

"Name's Tonks," she said, her hair cycling from a bright yellow, to Harry's black.

"Ah, a Changeling," Graatsia spoke with excited surprise. "Never have I met one. You would be welcomed with great respect at my old home."

"Err, thanks?"

Viktor's father, Kamen, uttered a few words after Viktor translated, allowing him to become part of the conversation. "My father is asking about your sister. He says he did not think you had one, so I explained. He also… says welcome to Mr Black."

Harry knew that was not the case in truth, as the man was staring with narrowed eyes at his Godfather. Viktor had told him of the Durmstrang ritual of Magicka Recognition, due to the prevalence of Dark Magic taught by the school. Even though Sirius did not align himself with his family's history, the bloodline of his family had been bred specifically to become more adapted to the nature of the Dark. He was sure that Kamen Krum was eying him warily because of this.

Viktor had explained his family's past during one of their conversations in the year. Apparently, the Krum's had been one of the staunchest opponents of Grindelwald during the man's rise to power decades ago in their home nation. The Krum's had also had a history of at least one person per generation going into their version of the Auror's, due to their firm belief in combating the Dark Arts. Viktor had told him that the main reason they go to Durmstrang is to learn the Dark Arts not to use it, but to know how it works on a fundamental level, and therefore, how best to combat a user of it. 'Experience is King' it seemed was the motto.

His Godfather was usually a happy-go-lucky kind of person, but Harry had experienced the shockwaves of his nightmares before, when the magic got out of control. He remembered the way his hairs stood on end, his stomach sank, his eyes grew red and hot, and the way the oppressive air felt on his skin. Harry was thankful that the man did not have an evil bone in his body, or he was sure that the scars on the country would be so much worse than it already was.

Sirius was smiling widely, his hand outstretched in greeting, "Pleasure to meet you." The two parents shook hands, with Kamen's grip being tense, but slowly calming down. Sirius turned to the man's mother, placing a light breath upon her knuckles as he tried to pour on his famous charm. "And a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"A charmer, how refreshing."

Harry chuckled quietly as he heard Dora make slight gagging sounds to what she was witnessing.

Krum sighed good-naturedly. "I am still not good at knowing Hogwarts. But Harry has shown me most of it," he said to his family. To Harry he spoke, "I will be showing them the castle, but I think we shall eat together, yes? May even see you through the day?"

"Of course, Viktor," Harry replied. He smiled and nodded at the family now that the introductions were out of the way. Dora was still stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Instead, she turned to look at the other two families in the room who were meeting each other for the first time.

She pulled Harry into a side armed hug, her arm going around his shoulders as she pulled him towards her. Harry simply returned the gesture, expecting it at some point, but not negatively in any way.

"It's been a while, Tonks".

"I almost didn't recognise you there. I can't remember your name… Diggory, I know."

"Cedric," he laughed lightly, though his parents appeared slightly disgruntled at the unintentional snub from the girl. "I don't doubt why. Last time you saw me I was only a second year; a tiny little thing before I grew up a little bit. I remember you though. The constant swapping of hair colours without spells leaves a memory intact."

"She is not a Champion though, is she, Ced?" burst out Amos Diggory. The man was blatantly living vicariously through his son, this was obvious, and had walked over to the trio with a swagger that had no right to be there. "I thought this event was for families, eh? Not for whatever this is."

"Amos," Sirius growled warningly. "Harry is my Godson, so I have every right to be here."

"Hmm," the man uttered. "Quite."

"Dad." Cedric's tone was harsh, and the glare he gave Amos had him wilting slightly. The man was a suck up, and his wife a wallflower, as she stood with tired eyes and heavy makeup, nary a sound made from her. Cedric, however, was showing himself to be the Prefect and Wizard the school knew him to be. His magic was dense in the air, a natural occurrence as he was gifted with it in enormous quantities. Harry remembered when he told Remus who his competition was the first time they managed to speak face to face after he was announced as the fourth Champion.

"Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum."

"Sounds like you have some proper competition on your hands there, Harry." Remus took a large gulp of Butterbeer – the man had one of the worst sweet-tooths Harry had ever come across. "Delacour, from your descriptions, sounds like a Veela. Dangerous creatures, not that she is one, of course, but most especially worse when bred with Magicals. They have a dangerous temperament, and a line to esoteric magics even without the mingling of Wizard Bloodlines. The more modern-day interpretations of 'elves' are from Muggles meeting Veela, did you know? Their whole beings caused jealousy to many a Witch and Wizard, and a lot of things happened, which I won't go into here and now, that made many of them join Voldemort's ranks in the last war, and Grindelwald's before him."

Harry shrugged, almost uncaringly. "Fleur is not like that, though. Sure, she can be… difficult. But what you are saying makes it sound as though she thinks the world is out for her. I guess it kind of is."

"You truly are like your mother in oh so many ways, Harry. She would have seen the world in the eyes of unity, just like you do. So many 'Dark Creatures' were just new friends to her." The pause almost deafened them both. "Like me."

"Remus…"

"Now, Krum, from what I hear, is powerful magically. Unfortunately, I cannot quote on someone I know almost nothing about, however, from my understanding, he is referred to as a prodigy.

"Diggory, though, is one I know you should watch out for. The boy is gifted with a massive amount of magic, more so than even yours, and it is incredibly dense. The boy also is skilled with using his magic and has a natural gift for it that goes above and beyond many of your peers." He clapped his hands once, causing the sound to echo loudly around the room, startling a slightly tipsy Sirius out of hi nap by the fire. "There is one final thing that he lacks, instead of has in abundance. The gift. The gift of understanding magic. So many Witches and Wizards have the power and knowledge. But so, so, few have that intrinsic 'knowing' of what magic can truly do. This is why Muggleborns have the 'edge' that purebloods don't. Those who are born with magic in their lives see it as simply 'being', and most never truly understand that there is so much that cannot be understood. Muggleborns don't have the unique power build-up from generations of magical ancestors and must get by in other ways. This uniqueness of knowing that magic is now real… Harry, that changes perspectives."

"It's something that James and the rat never had," Sirius yawned as he awakened. "Remus has that specialty due to his condition. That 'uniqueness'. And my family… Well, you've read their books."

"In other words, Harry, this ability is the third pillar that holds up what is 'magic'. For some, like Cedric, and most likely Krum too, this pillar has a weak foundation. Whereas yours is, for so many reasons, made of some of the strongest material in existence."

"Of course, this was unbecoming of me, my apologies."

Harry did not believe for a single second that the man was apologetic in the slightest. The way that Dora and Sirius' eyes narrowed at the man showed the same belief that he had. Cedric turned to the trio and sighed despondently, before perking back up and set out an easy-going smile. "Mr Black, I know we haven't been introduced properly, but my name is Cedric Diggory. Harry's told me quite a lot about you, and you too Tonks. In fact, you probably can't shut him up about it."

Harry's face reddened slightly, which was made worse by Dora's slightly evil grin. It was a shocking sight to behold it on what was essentially a female version of his own face. "Nymphadora," he muttered warningly.

The grin ended. He only ever called her that when he thought things were going too far. She settled instead for words of thanks to Cedric, who, now that Harry was thinking more clearly, sported a slight blush upon his face when he looked at the older girl.

Sirius was standing there with his eyes closed, not even attempting to speak to the elder Diggory's, and they themselves were reciprocating in kind. The whole interaction had become rather awkward, and Harry was thankful when Fleur led her family over to them for their own meet and greets.

"Arry." She spoke his name with a quiet calm; he looked up to her, towering over him as usual alongside her mother who was taller even still. "Zis iz my mozzer, Appoline, and my papa, Sebastian."

They looked like a true power couple. Mr Delacour was a tall man himself, sporting a great, dark, beard that drifted past his neck, his hair cropped short, and eyes of a deep blue. Fleur had explained he was Norman, and his ancestors shone brightly through him. Appoline looked the spitting image of Fleur, at least a Fleur who was more mature and had the experience to reinforce her gracefulness.

"Monsieur Potter," spoke the man. "I weeshed to say zis in person, razzer zan een a letter." The man, whom all could see had more than a hint of pride to him, bowed deep and low for such a time that Harry froze up at the sight. "Zank you. From ze bottom of my 'eart. Zank you for saving my daughter."

Appoline stood, eyes shining with a kindness he did not expect. She nodded once; her hands clasped by her waist as she stared at him. Gabrielle was before her, a shy smile reaching her eyes as she waved at him. Fleur had moved next to him, placing a hand upon his shoulder for such a brief moment, yet it still sent electric shocks down his spine. Sirius and Dora were unnaturally silent, though he could feel the glare his sister was sending his friend when she saw how close she had come to him.

"Mr Delacour, you do not have to thank me." His voice wavered slightly. "I only did what was right."

"You 'elped a girl you deed not know. Somezing zat your country calls 'dark'. You deed not 'ave to 'elp. But you deed. Eef you ever need anyzing. Ever. Zen all you 'ave to do is ask."

Harry knew that there was something more to that oath he had been given the moment that Sirius' breathing became more audible. Moody and Dumbledore had explained to him the severity of a Life Debt, believing that his selfless actions may have created one between himself and the girl, but this gave more credence to that theory. "And I would do it again if I had to. I was not going to let her stay down there."

"Harry has always been someone that would do the right thing." Sirius had stepped forward, a look of immense pride upon his face. "I am truly proud to be his Godfather. To see him grow to the man he is becoming. I am glad that others feel the same way about him that I do." He extended an arm. "Sirius Black, at your service, Monsieur. Madame." He grasped the other man's hand firmly and placed a feather light kiss on the back of the woman's hand.

Fleur nudged her head off to the side, walking in said direction as Harry followed. He looked over his shoulder as he saw Sirius and Fleur's parents speak in fluent French with each other, while Dora stood awkwardly with Gabrielle as the girl began asking her rapid-fire questions in a language that she did not understand. Of course, his own sister began to default back to what she knew best and started transforming her features much to the childish delight of the girl.

"Are you okay?" she asked him gently. She knew enough of him by now that not only meeting new people made him wary, but also the almost reverence that her father had spoken to him in.

Harry sighed, nodding tiredly at his friend. "I am glad that Sirius and Dora are here. I have missed them, and knowing that the Tournament is almost over…"

She laughed lightly, though not unkindly. "I bet." She looked him over, her gaze lingering over his face as if she was searching for something. "I wonder. I wonder eef maybe you may ween zis after all."

"I don't think…"

"Hmm," she interrupted. "Non, I zink you weel. After Gabrielle, I do not want to play zis game anymore. I joined zis zing for glory and honour, zinking zat I could show ze world I am more zan just a Veela. More zan just 'oo I am. But now I am just tired."

"Do you regret joining?"

She closed her eyes, emitting an aura of weariness. The two of them looked out into the room, viewing the connections that were being made by all the families within. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Dumbledore, who he not seen enter, talking jovially with the other judges, as well as that damnable Skeeter and her cameraman. The viper was looking like she had caught her prey when she saw everything that was going on. Harry, and all those who appeared to associate with him were reported on almost every day now – the hate mail and vicious insults were decreasing each day, but he was still her favourite target.

"I zink zat eef you 'ad asked me before, I would 'ave said yes. Too many look at me wiz fear or jealousy. Too many. And zen zere are zose who lust, like zat Malfoy boy 'oo flaunts 'is power. But, non, not now. She waited for Skeeter and the others' attention to move away from them, before planting a lingering kiss upon his cheek. Harry's hand came up to the spot, feeling warmth that was more than just his reddening face. "I do not 'ave many friends, 'Arry, but you and yours have become mine. Zo for zat, I zank you more than you could ever know."

He smiled wide and bright, thinking of Circle. Most of all, he thought of Katie, and how she had taken him from who he once was and opened the door so wide for him to step through. Now, he had so much, and he could never thank her enough for being the catalyst for it all. Fleur's situation was different, so very different, from his own. Yet he felt it there and then, that though circumstances differed, she needed him to be the Katie that he had.

He was content, in that moment, that this sort of peace was something he was willing to embrace.

Then.

Came the Final Task.

They had spent the day together, the three of them, and Harry had enjoyed every last second of it. Sirius had spent much of the day regaling the two youngers of his years within the castle – he would pause every now and then and gain a far off look in his eyes whenever he would come to specific part of Hogwarts, reminiscing of the things he and James Potter would do as the brothers they were. Dora, usually so snarky with her comments towards him, always looking to get a rise out of the man, in good faith as cousins would, kept silent whenever this happened.

Dora would speak the same, telling Harry and Sirius of all the trouble she would get into, though it was never as imaginative as the elder Black.

Harry loved every moment of it. They took Dora to the Gryffindor Tower, showing her for the first time the interior of the Common Room. "I only ever saw Hufflepuff's. I did try to get in here a few times, but the portrait outside would never let me in. I remember I spent weeks trying to learn the Disillusionment Charm, only for her to see right through it."

Sirius had barked at that. "It was the Ravenclaw Tower we went in first, at about our third year. It doesn't have a password, 'cos you have to solve a riddle first. It must have known we weren't Ravenclaw's because it was so bloody difficult! Of course, Remus being who he was, solved it for us. I always knew he was a Claw at heart, but there we are. It was passed midnight, and no one was around, but we cast our spells and temporarily made all the books blank! Ha! 2 weeks straight of detention it earned us, but James took the fall for it. Dropped it down to 1 week when the three of us coughed up to it as well.

"Then it was Hufflepuff's a year later. It was Christmas time, and Peter had been staking out the entrance for a while. He came back to let us know he had gotten in and brought us there. Of course, I fell for the trick the first time, but we got in when the rat told us the truth of the matter." His faraway look became contorted with a rage that was only fleeting. Sometimes, Sirius had issues distinguishing the past friend he had to the traitor he became. Wormtail was rotting in some cell in Azkaban though, and for Sirius, sometimes that was enough. Sometimes, he remembered the friend he had, and lamented it all. "Slytherin's was more difficult, but we ended up there all the same. Things had happened outside the walls, and… well, it's probably best I don't say what happened that day."

They had lunch in the kitchen's, had the day outside among Harry's friends, and crept into the Great Hall to have their dinner. The night was a bright summer's one, and the magics of the castle kept the heat away from them as they ate and talked and laughed. What was to come soon from that point was always in the back of his mind, but the distractions kept the worry and fear at bay as best they could.

Fred and George joked with him, though became almost worshipful in nature as they discussed the Marauders with Sirius. Neville and Fay were his shields, acting as best friends should as they tried to shoulder his concerns. Angelina and Alicia looked up to his strong, confident sister, and the three of them acted as sisterly as they could. Cedric popped over briefly, wishing words of encouragement, to the happy nod of Sirius whose respect of the boy grew leaps and bounds at how honest and true he was being. Tracey came over, wishing him luck. Sirius' eyebrow rose when he saw the girl squeeze his hand as she walked back over to the Slytherin table. Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, all wished him good luck.

But Katie was his rock. She would look at him constantly, and her hugs were strong enough to bruise. He whispered words of reassurance to her, whilst she would do the same. When the time came, her hand found his, and they maintained that contact until they all came to the entrance of the Maze, emblazoned with intrinsic emblems of all three schools, and the Houses they contained therein.

Harry's heart was racing a mile a minute at this point. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears as it drowned out the roar of the crowd. Sirius was saying something to him, but he could not quite hear the words. He felt the warm touch of the hug that Dora was giving him, and his heart bled for her as he noticed the welling of her eyes. Harry looked around the crowds that were booing and cheering for him, and each face was simply blank to his mind.

"Come back to us." The voice was a whisper on the wind, but it was the only thing he could hear clearly. Katie's hands cupped his face, staring intently at him as if it was something she needed to remember for the rest of her days. "Come back to me. I want that to be a promise. Promise me this. Please." The last word was one of desperation.

"Always."

She nodded, stroking his cheeks tenderly as she spun slowly and took one hesitant step forward, stumbling slightly before being caught by Neville who then led her steadily away from him.

Soon, he was alone in a sea of nerves, trapped afloat with the other castaways. They were bobbing amongst the waves, lost as he, and just as frightened, no matter how much they tried to hide it.

The voices were still dulled, and he nodded along with what was being told to him by Crouch, who was stood before the green entrance to the maze. The light did not penetrate it, and the seconds were ticking by until he had to take his first steps into the botanical hell before him.

One foot placed itself in front of the other, his wand alight in front of him as a mystical darkness took over all senses. The Lumos charm was a staple of a mage's repertoire, and Harry idly wondered how any person could not utilise such a useful spell.

The hedges were thick and uniformed, rising high above him as the gnarled roots seemed to spread out in all directions. Everything was a thick haze of green lit upon the effervescent blue-white of the wand made light. His sense of direction seemed misplaced as he stumbled blindly through twists and turns that he could not seem to grasp. There was a silence that was deafening him, as no insects nor birds nor beast could be heard. Apparently, some form of magical device was reflecting all Champion's every move as best as possible, which was being relayed verbally to the crowds far behind him… or was that now in front of him?

After what felt like hours, the hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end, and a shape lay down a deep track far in front of him. He crept ever closer to it, noticing that it was getting larger the more he moved forwards, but still remained low to the ground and immobile.

It was a stone, smooth to his sight, and a grey that appeared to be polished in some places, but chipped and broken in others. There was moss and plant life encapsulating it, and a fine layer of dirt and earth in splotches here and there.

Harry knew what this was the moment he managed take it all in, and his wand remained raised in a shaky hand.

"R-riddikulus." His conviction was not great enough, and the stone remained in place. "Riddikulus!" It did not budge, though engraved letters upon it became more pronounced. The words spelled out were illegible, and impossible to read, though he knew what they said nevertheless. "Ri-ri…" He could not get the words out of his mouth. It was such a silly fear. Such an impossibility now. And yet he craved the opposite of what he saw.

Here Lies Harry Potter

Here Lies No One

Here Lies The Boy Who Lived

It was his grave. Forgotten to the world. A stark reminder that no one would remember him, and no one would care. His greatest fear. To be forgotten. To be unknown.

Here Lies The Freak

There was a loud crack, and the words became kind and beautiful. He sighed and moved beyond the creature that could only spread fear and pain, never looking back.

His head was in tatters already, and he felt bile rise through his throat, wishing that Bagman, who was going to be commentating on the Task, had either not witnessed this, or could not grasp what had been seen, yet he knew this to not be the case.

So gone were his thoughts, that he almost walked face first into a Creature that he had only read about but was awed to be in their presence.

"My Lady," he uttered with some reverence, thanking Hagrid for his lessons in the correct decorum when encountering such a magnificent being.

"My, my, such a polite young human," the Sphinx spoke with some curiosity. "Such a change from the usual crowd, who speak with such lack of dignity and wit. An eyebrow quirked upwards as it settled down into a comfortable position. "I am sorely tempted to just let you pass me unhindered, though I do so love to riddle your kind, who believe themselves so superior. I tell you; the Old Masters were far kinder than your present ones. They at least knew their place."

"Lady Sphinx," the memories of the Boggart slipping from his mind like water from a waterfall, "I will take your riddle, though I cannot promise I can answer."

"Hmm, a bright young mind. You must be this 'Harry' that Rubeus has spoken to me of. Very well then, I ask you this:

I am not the journey, but it's end

I am not the end, but it's rest

I am the safety of the night

I am the warm in the cold

I am there in the light

I am there in the dark

I am the past

I am the present

I am the future

I am peace

So, young Harry, what am I?"

He sat down, crossing his legs beneath him as he began to think.

"I am not the journey? So, an end? But you said you are not an end. Can I hear it again, please?" The Sphinx repeated itself, slower, so that Harry could dwell on the words better. "Is it the phrasing, maybe?"

"There are other twists and turns, young Harry, through this maze. I have not yet encountered any other, but this field is long, and the pathways here are… unnatural. Its nature is wrong, and twisted. Come, young Harry, if you do not know, there is no shame in surrendering."

"Safety," he murmured. 'Where do I feel safe?' Hogwarts came to him, as did Sirius, and Dora, and his friends. "I am the past, present, and future. I am always there. I am peace.

Home." He said with conviction. "I am Home."

"Pass then, little one, and fare well in your trials, for I foresee them to be long, and difficult."

He near sprinted passed the being, whispering a thanks to it as he moved quickly down the turns, trying his hardest to picture a route in his head.

It was the clicking that he heard first, though he was distracted by a bright jet of red sparks that blasted into the air from only a few hedgerows to his left. The bright glow lit up the area, and he saw the great beast in all it's terror for the brief moment his vision filled with black upon crimson. He could not help himself, as the large spider scuttled directly at him with a pace that belied its size. He did not even have time to think before it was upon him, his wand already directed towards its gaping maw.

"Incendio!" It was the only thing he could think of in the fractured seconds he had to work out what was going on.

The Acromantula screamed an unearthly sound as the flames engulfed it in a tower of fire. Eight legs thrashed about, catching upon the greenery about it, spreading the disaster beyond what the magical plants could endure. The beast crashed through one of the hedge walls, screeching in pain as it did, and Harry slowly began to stand as he had fallen in his panic. He did not hesitate to run as far away as he could, no longer did he care if the direction he was travelling in was the correct one.

He ran and ran and ran until his legs grew weak, and pain as sharp as steel hit his sides. His breath was starting to creak, and he could taste copper in his mouth, yet still he kept running. Until he saw it. A great glow in the distance, dispersing the inky blackness of the maze: it was the Triwizard Cup, only a few rows before his path.

He could hear shouts now, close by him. 'That sounds like Cedric,' he thought to himself. With a determined cry, he used the last of his energy to move himself around a corner, seeing not the Cup as he turned the bend, but instead a mirror, floating above the ground.

He stopped moving, taking a good few seconds to catch his breath, and to study the hovering pane of glass.

Sounds were coming from it. Haunting, sorrowful sounds, that he wished he could escape from and never look back from. It reminded him slightly of the Mirror of Erised he had once stood before so long ago, yet darker in nature. The aura that was emanating from it was distasteful and almost horrifying, yet he could not look away. An outside could almost see a connection between the young bystander and the Legend of Narcissus, staring at his reflection for eons on end.

There were words coming from within the mirror, and Harry could have sworn he saw a face in the corner of his vision, reflecting yellow, hateful eyes that almost sent him into spasm.

"What is this?" he near mouthed, almost afraid that his voice would be stolen by the sick sight. He tried to skirt around it, but a mental barrier was halting his movement. "Why do I feel so… cold?"

A sickening laugh filled his ears, and a whisper that Harry wished he could forget filled his hearing, causing him to scream once. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling in front of the Cup. The prize he had been searching for.

"I need not your wishes, Harry Potter, for your soul is awaiting a new master. One who will cause far greater pain than any I can inflict. Go. Go! Go now and meet your misery. But do you remember, little Potter? The taste of death? The hunger for escape? Now, what would you sacrifice when the curtain closes… and the fire burns?

I see your future, and your future is death. The ones who brought me here have paid with trinkets and not much more. A taste for a game, though this game is one of life and death. Do you see, little Potter, what I must do now to quench my thirst? I cannot come forth, as the one a thousand years ago kept me contained with riddles and trickery. Ah, if only I could manifest, then your so-called Dark Lord would be a stain at my feet.

The fire will burn, little Potter, like it did for your father, and his father before him. You are of a cursed line, and not all appreciate that Death was not paid his price. The fire will burn, and you will embrace the suffering that will come with it. Those that dwell in fire will not protect, for fire cleanses, and fire destroys. And it will destroy you. Prepare, little Potter, for the fire will end you before this fight is done. Alas, I will not be there to see it. I could offer you the gift I have given others, but I fear you will not take it, will you? You may never recall this conversation again, but you would rue the misery that will come. So, I ask once more, for a final time. What would you sacrifice when the curtain closes, and the fire burns?"

"Everything."

It was a whisper on the wind. A word spoken with no one to hear it. He reached forward robotically, his palm meeting the metal handle of the overly large thing. It was cool to the touch and sent a chill up his arm.

Another shout, louder than the last, came from beside him. It was one of joy and victory, and he felt a pressure move up his body as a figure he was unable to see through his exhausted haze, grabbed hold of the other side of the Cup.

Harry did not have time to make a noise, as a lurching feeling struck him, and he felt as if he was being bombarded with constant winds. They span and span, moving at a speed that he could not comprehend. It felt as if it were to last an age, and yet it came to its conclusion quicker than he anticipated. The Cup slid from his hand, moving down a grassy hill until it came to its final rest at a slab of stone that looked so eerily familiar.

The blood was rushing to his ears, and he felt as if he were still spinning as he let out the building stream of vomit upon the dew filled ground. He lay there, taking deep, retching, breaths as he attempted to build up his strength to stand.

Another stream of his stomach burst out, this time it had a slight amount of crimson within it, as the fall from what must have only been a Portkey had knocked his ribs slightly.

"Where…?"

The voice seemed like it was miles away from him, as it came dulled and monotone, yet familiar to hear. He opened his eyes, which he did not realise had been scrunched tightly closed until that moment and saw a figure that had him laugh in relief.

It did not last long.

A strong stream of green burst from the dark. Eyes widened in shock, as a look of intense panic crossed the other's face.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The body fell as if in slow motion. They had not even had time to properly stand up it seemed, as they slid slowly back down in a dead weight.

Unbidden tears began to well and a violent screech emitted from his mouth, with flecks of blood flying from between wide opened lips.

A manic cackle blasted his senses, and he knew no more.

Author's Notes

Not much of an author's notes here this time. I am aware it has been a long while since my last chapter, but life gets in the way, and I had a serious lack of motivation to write anything. I mean, I could have easily put words to this, but each time I thought of how to move the story forward, I could not do it to the standard that I wanted it to be. I would, and I hope you are the same here, rather put the best chapter together that I could, than type out some drivel that is quicker but just terrible.

The mirror at the end is a cameo entrance, who will most likely not show up again. Though it hints at a foreshadowing for Harry's life. Prophecy seems to be an underrated, yet highly important thing in canon, and now Harry in this story is starting to realise (though maybe not consciously) that some things are preordained. For a story standpoint, see Chekov's Gun. These things are meaningful, and will showcase some things that are yet to come.

Some may wonder about Snape's actions and words in this chapter. It is a pity that I cannot explain exactly what is going on with the man, and why he deemed it okay to behave as he did, because if I explain, then unfortunately it would ruin the story to come. And that is not just the next few chapters, but also far into the future of the story. All I will say, is that the stress is getting to him because of a certain 'tattoo', and he's musing on his life choices. Not an excuse, but pitiful men do pitiful, petty things to those they dislike. Such is the world of a bully like Snape. And remember, Snape wants Harry to live due to his feelings for Lily. Any more and I will be creating spoilers.

Next Chapter: The Graveyard