DISCLAIMER – I own nothing, I'm merely borrowing for the duration of this story.

SUMMARY – 'Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.'

WARNINGS – Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia

A/N – Please be aware that in some places I will be utilising some of the original material, although it has all been adapted and altered to fit with my changes to the overall storyline. None of it is literally copy/pasted as I consider that to be cheating (and borderline plagiarism which is not acceptable in my book.) As the story progresses this will happen less and less but in this first chapter, particularly in the very first section where the "scene is being set", I struggled not to include some aspects. Just wanted to warn you.

'My Champion, My Dragon'

Chapter Six

"Harry."

Dumbledore's unusually serious voice drew his attention away from the empty doorway through which the Beauxbatons Champion had just passed after their eyes had met for a moment, his subtle expression surprising Harry. There had been no sign of suspicion or judgement in those piercing grey eyes, only a healthy dose of both concern and confusion.

"Cedric," Dumbledore continued, addressing the other Hogwarts Champion as just as Harry turned to face them. The Hufflepuff, despite his innate cheerfulness, was frowning down at his Gryffindor compatriot with open suspicion. Harry ducked his head, feeling his cheeks flush under the judgemental stare. "I suggest that both of you go up to bed. I am sure that your houses are waiting to celebrate with you and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise. We shall speak tomorrow."

Both boys answered as one, Cedric with confidence, Harry as little more than a mumble,

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore."

It was Cedric who led the way back up into the now deserted Great Hall, the tables cleared of everything but the pumpkin decorations which would remain for a few more days as was the school custom around Halloween, the unscented candles within them being replenished by the House Elves until the pumpkins began to physically deteriorate. Harry was struck, as he stumbled unsteadily after Cedric, at how creepy the Hall looked at this time of the year.

He hated Halloween at the best of times, the celebration holding an unfortunately special place in his heart now that he knew when and how his parents had died, but with the eerie feeling created by the candles having burnt low and the stressful event of the evening he couldn't help but shudder, picking up the pace and overtaking Cedric so he could get out.

"So," Cedric hummed as they exited the Hall. "We're playing against each other again."

"Yeah," Harry responded ineloquently, his thoughts jumbled. "S'pose so…"

It wasn't until they'd reached the equally deserted Entrance Hall that Cedric blurted out,

"Harry, how did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," Harry defended himself, staring up at the older boy who somehow appeared even more attractive in the low candlelight. In the past Harry would have expected his body to respond with an awkward feeling of arousal when their eyes met, just like it had when they had been introduced at the Quidditch World Cup, but nothing happened. Instead he found himself thinking that the grey of his eyes was all wrong, that the colour was too bright, and that the shape wasn't right, too soft and round. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

"Oh."

The Hufflepuff's tone of voice left no doubt that he didn't believe Harry in the slightest.

"Ok. Well…see you, then."

Offering the younger student a parting nod Cedric turned and disappeared through a door to the right of the grand marble staircase, rapidly descending down the stone steps which had been concealed behind it and before the door could swing shut completely Harry heard him let out a joyful whoop, announcing his presence to his housemates who began to cheer.

A loud click echoed throughout the empty Entrance Hall as the door finally closed, leaving Harry alone to turn and drop down onto the third step with a heavy sigh, awkwardly resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His eyes stung with tears of frustration.

Would no one believe him when he told them that he didn't his name into the Goblet?

He didn't want to be a Hogwarts Champion, let alone the second one.

Why would he?

As far as he could see when facing a dangerous competition against opponents three years his senior could only end in two possible ways for him; to make a complete and utter fool out of him when he failed or, as had just been suggested, to permanently maim or kill him.

How could anyone think that this was something he had done to himself?

Sure, he had fantasised about winning the Tournament just like everyone else had but that didn't mean he was actually stupid enough to try and do something like this. Seriously, he'd had enough near-death experiences to last him a lifetime. Why would he sign up for more?

No, this couldn't be a student prank, he reasoned with himself as he fought to hold back his tears. Even for a Slytherin this was too much, too dangerous. Professor Moody was right.

This wasn't about humiliation; this was about getting him killed.

And there was only one person in the world who wanted him dead, that he knew of anyway.

"Voldemort."

Several of the paintings on the wall nearest to him gasped fearfully, disappearing from their frames, whilst others called out to demand he silence himself. Harry sighed sadly, wiping his eyes briskly before pushing himself up to his feet so that he could begin his journey back to the tower. It seemed that even the paintings were afraid of hearing his name spoken aloud.

"There's no one else it could be," he reasoned with himself as he instinctively navigated the moving staircases so as to ensure he'd end up at his desired location. "It must've been him."

Or, rather, it must've been one of his followers…

"Snape?" Harry wondered, thinking through those he knew to be affiliated with the Dark Lord. "Karkaroff? But he seemed genuinely angry…course, he could have been acting…"

It couldn't have been the DeLacour's, he reasoned.

As much as they hated him they simply didn't have the magical ability to do this.

"Well, well, well," the voice of the Fat Lady startled him out of his thoughts, taking him by surprise as he hadn't realised how close he'd gotten to the Gryffindor Tower. She wasn't alone in her frame for once, a witch who's portrait he had spied hanging down in the room where the meeting with the other Champions had taken place sat beside her. "Violets just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as Hogwarts Champion, then? I must say it's…"

Harry didn't have time to gossip with the overly friendly portrait tonight.

"Balderdash."

"It most certainly is not!" the unfamiliar witch gasped sharply. "I saw it with my own eyes!"

"No, no, Vi," the Fat Lady reassured her friend as the portrait began to swing open slowly. "It's the password. I've asked Professor McGonagall to change it but she won't, you see…"

Whatever else the portrait might have said was drowned out by a wall of noise.

"There he is!"

"Hogwarts Champion!"

A hand grabbed him by his upper arm, squeezing too tightly as he was pulled into the centre of the room which was packed to the rafters with Gryffindor's of all ages, all talking at once.

"No, Gryffindor Champion!"

"Harry!"

"How did you do it?"

"You should've told us you'd entered!" Fred, the owner of the too tight grip bellowed as he pulled Harry around to stand between him and his twin. Both of them looked half annoyed, half impressed as George demanded, "How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!"

"I didn't," Harry protested. "I don't know how…"

He'd been right.

No one, not even the twins who he thought knew him so well, would believe him.

"Oh, if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor…"

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!"

"We've got food, Harry, come and have some!"

His protestations of not being hungry, of being tired, went ignored.

He was forced to endure the celebration in his honour for an hour, during which his voice grew hoarse from telling people over and over again that he hadn't entered his name at all.

And yet, no matter how many times he said it, no one believed him.

His eyes stung with frustration even worse than before.

It would've been bearable if Ron and Hermione had been at his side but they were nowhere to be seen. Did than mean they believed him? That they disapproved of the celebration? Or did it mean that they were so disgusted with his supposed actions that they could face him?

"I'm tired!"

A groan of protest met his announcement, strong hands continuing to pull at him even as he struggled towards the staircase which would lead him up to the sanctuary of his dormitory.

"No, seriously, George. I'm going to bed."

Battling his way through the overeager crowd he finally made it to the winding staircase, climbing them two steps at a time in his haste to get away from the exuberant celebration.

"Why will no one believe me?"

All but tumbling into the fourth year boys dormitory Harry spun around to shut the door behind him as quickly as possible, pressing his back against it when he was done. It was only then as he leant back against the unrelenting wood that he noticed Ron lying on top of his bedcovers, fully dressed but for his shoes which had obviously been carelessly kicked off.

Harry felt himself sag with relief at the site of his friend,

"Where've you been? It's bloody mental down there…"

"Oh, hello," Ron responded stiffly, his smile forced for the first time in their friendship. The redhead made no move to get up when Harry pushed himself off of the door and moved to perch on the end of his bed so that he could remove his shoes, being careful with his laces so that they wouldn't be damaged. It was a habit that he'd grown up with thanks to the Dursley's, his relatives having refused to replace his broken laces the one time that he'd pulled too hard on them and they'd snapped. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Ron's muttered comment caused him to pause partway through pulling off his left shoe.

"What d'you mean, congratulations?"

It had never crossed his mind that either Ron of Hermione would fail to believe him.

They'd stood by him through everything that his crazy life had thrown at them, had believed him when he'd told them about seeing the Grimm, had listened to him when he'd opened up about his visions and had never questioned the things he'd shared about the Dursley's.

"Well, no one else got across the Age Line," Ron answered stiffly, unaware of Harry's internal struggle. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use, the Invisibility Cloak?"

Ron didn't believe him.

Ron didn't believe him.

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me over that line…"

His slowly worded response was instinctive more than anything else, a stating of the facts.

"Oh, right," Ron grumbled, picking at a loose thread in the blanket which covered his entire bed and even draped off of both sides. "I thought you might've told me if it was the Cloak because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

Harry couldn't stop himself from gazing open mouthed at his best friend for a long moment.

"Listen, I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

His best friends response to his slow, carefully wondered statement?

A loud scoff and a roll of his eyes.

"Ron," Harry almost snapped. "Someone else must've done it."

Ron frowned, seemingly confused by this simple statement,

"What would they do that for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps they want to kill me?"

It was melodramatic, yes, but it was the conclusion he had come to.

And yet Ron, his most trusted confident, responded with a sullen glare.

"It's ok, you know? You can tell me the truth. If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie. It's not like you got into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, Violet, she's already told us all that they're letting you enter."

Harry had never felt more betrayed in his entire life than he did in that moment, and given his less-than-stellar upbringing that was saying something. His so-called best friend was siding with the rumour mill over him, the boy he'd known since they'd met on the train?

What the…

"A thousand Galleons prize money, eh?"

The money?

He thought it was about the money?

"And you don't have to do end-of-year tests, either…"

Harry couldn't contain his anger any longer.

"I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire!"

"I'm not stupid, Harry…"

"Really?" the unwilling Champion scoffed loudly. "You're doing a good impression of it."

Between one breath and the next Ron's expression became completely closed off, all traces of his faked smile disappearing as he pushed himself almost violently up onto his knees so that he could jerk his heavy bed-curtains with a passing comment, his voice flat and cold,

"You should get some sleep, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early for a photo call…"

Harry was left staring completely gobsmacked at a set of maroon colour curtains.

Unable to hold it back he let out a single, choked off sob.

Why would no one believe him?

Draco was woken, rather rudely, by an elbow to the face.

It wasn't a deliberate move, he quickly figured out even in his sleep-befuddled state, just a case of Claude moving in his sleep as he was known to do. Thankfully his elbow had missed Draco's nose, striking his cheekbone instead, and the creams he used in his morning routine would soothe the worst of the bruising before it could even begin to appear on his pale skin.

"Claude wake you up too?"

Rolling over, uncaring of the fact that his movements jostled the sleeping couple he had previously been turned towards, he smirked at Ramona who had half of his bed to herself whilst the other three were squashed together on the other half. It always ended up that way whenever the four of them would talk so late into the night that they just fell asleep together despite the fact that it would have made sense to give Claude the most room.

"Of course," Draco replied. "What time is it?"

Tilting her head so as to see the clock on his bedside table Ramona answered,

"5:45."

"Seriously, Claude?" Draco huffed, glaring over his shoulder at the still sleeping couple who had responded to his movement by wrapping themselves tightly together. How Javier didn't get woken up by his lovers constant moving Draco didn't know. "I'm going back to sleep…"

The celebration in the carriages luxurious common room had lasted until gone midnight.

That would have been bad enough but the four friends had then retired to his room for their own celebration, a celebration which had eventually become a planning meeting about how his friends were going to help him throughout the Tournament. Ramona had, somehow, got her hands on the schedule for the time leading up to the First Task and had assigned herself to be his personal assistant. Javier had promised to help him figure out what the First Task was even though it was supposed to remain a mystery for the Champions. And Claude had been assigned the job of keeping Draco's morale up for the duration of the Tournament.

Draco had finally fallen asleep mid-discussion about the up-and-coming 'Weighing of the Wands' at a little after two in the morning which meant that he'd gotten three hours sleep.

Unfortunately as he'd been woken up so suddenly he was now wide awake.

Ramona snorted softly,

"I see you're having the same problem as me."

"Any suggestions?"

"…how do you think the boy is coping with all of this?"

Draco knew who she meant but still tried to feign ignorance.

His reaction earned him an elbow to the side.

"You know very well who I mean; Harry Potter, your little admirer."

"Honestly? I don't know," Draco sighed at length, shifting so that his arms were pillowed beneath his head. It stretched out his back, a loud pop emanating from the base of his spine. "He was absolutely petrified. No matter what they were trying to suggest, and by they I mean all of the officials, I can't imagine him willingly entering himself in the Tournament."

"…do you suppose all the stories about him are true?" Ramona wondered after a while. "I mean, a baby surviving the Killing Curse when no one else has? Doesn't that seem a bit..."

"I don't know."

Draco, who had been four-years-old at the time, had only vague memories of the attack.

He could remember waking up presumably on the night it had happened to find his parents sat on the floor beside his bed. They'd been facing away from him so he couldn't see their faces, his mother's head resting on his father's shoulder as they talked softly of that poor little boy and everything he'd been through. Draco could remember being confused to find his parents in his room and why they sounded so sad, wondering in his innocence who it was they were talking about, and he could remember asking them what was wrong. The conversation that followed was a complete blank in his memory, however, as were those of the day that followed when the world had celebrated the disappearance of the Dark Lord.

"But he's here, now, and the Dark Lord isn't," he reasoned softly. "And my parents…"

Ramona frowned,

"What?"

"Whilst other members of my family believed that the Dark Lord was merely in hiding my parents chose to believe the theory that the curse had backfired somehow," he explained, his eyes following the strings of fairy lights hanging around the room as he spoke, the lights dimmed in response to the late hour thanks to the spell Ramona had cast on them when she'd put them up. "They believed it so strongly that they were willing to risk their lives in order to keep me safe, to give me a chance at a normal life away from the darkness that had tainted our family. Honestly, I dread to think what I would've turned out like if they hadn't."

"Probably like that awful cousin of yours," Ramona snorted. "Only prettier."

A moment of silence passed between them before they began to giggle uncontrollably, their bodies shaking more and more as their giggling rapidly transformed into full blown laughter.

In fact they giggle so loudly that Claude woke with a loud snort.

"Could you please keep it down?" he grumbled. "Some of us are trying to sleep…"

Draco gasped in outrage,

"You're trying to sleep?!"

Yanking his pillow out from underneath his head Draco twisted and brought it down on his friends head, causing him to cry out in alarm as the assault continued with blows of the soft pillow landing all over his squirming body. Ramona's laughter reached an almost hysterical level, tears flooding down her cheeks as her brother finally stirred, letting out a tired groan,

"…what's going on?"

"What's going on, my dear Javier, is your delightful boyfriend whose flying fists and pointy elbows have been keeping me and Ramona awake has just had the audacity to request that we keep the noise down as he's trying to sleep!" Draco snapped, still holding the pillow in position to deliver another blow. "Funnily enough that's what we'd like to be doing too!"

"Ah," Javier sighed, resigned. "Come here, love."

Reaching out he encouraged Claude to snuggle into his side, wrapping his arm around the Frenchman so as to effectively pin him in place. Claude sighed happily, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of his boyfriend's pyjama top whilst tucking his leg between Javier's.

"No more hitting people in your sleep," Javier ordered, his lips brushing against Claude's forehead. "We don't want our Champion going to breakfast with a black eye now do we?"

Claude mumbled something unintelligible in response, already more asleep than awake, and within a couple of minutes the couple were sound asleep as though nothing had happened.

Thankfully it wasn't more than five minutes later that Draco felt his eyelids growing heavy and, rather than fighting it as he could have done to keep Ramona company until she was ready to fall back asleep, he allowed them to fall closed and in a matter of minutes he was dreaming about flying through the clouds in pursuit a snitch glinting in the perfect sunlight.

Harry had decided sometime during his First Year that he both loved and hated the Owlery.

The Owlery was a circular stone room located at the top of the West Tower and no matter what time of year it was the room was always rather cold due to the fact that none of the many windows had glass in them so as to allow the owls to come and go freely. This also meant that like the top of the Astronomy Tower which was also open the elements it could be incredibly draughty. The floor, multi-layered and uneven, was entirely covered in straw, owl droppings, and the regurgitated skeletons of mice and voles and the walls were lined with hundreds of perches, going right up to the top of the tower, for the owls to nest on.

He loved the feeling of being so high up, something that he had come to love ever since discovering flying and Quidditch, and the way the wind moved around his body, turning whatever he was wearing into a second skin. He hated the smell, the fact that with every step you risked crushing a tiny skeleton beneath your foot and the hundreds of eyes that were constantly watching your every move. Hermione, on the other hand, hated pretty much everything about the Owlery and so had been happy to leave him to write his letter.

Holding the piece of parchment with his left hand he brought his quill to the top of the page.

Dear Sirius,

You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, so here goes.

I don't know if you've heard, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year…

He paused, looking out towards the clouds rolling slowly across the sky in the distance.

He knew he had to tell Sirius what had happened, Hermione was right about that, but how?

How did he explain it when he didn't understand what had happened himself?

A deep sigh escaped him, the parchment fluttering dangerously beneath his hand, before he decided that his only option was to explain things as simply and as quickly as he could.

…and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion.

I don't know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't.

The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff.

He paused, quill hovering over the parchment.

Well, he reasoned to himself, if he's named one he should name the other champions too.

Viktor Krum, the Quidditch player, will be representing Durmstrang.

I didn't even know he was still in school when I saw him play at the Quidditch World Cup.

Draco Malfoy is the Beauxbatons champion.

Apparently his family left the United Kingdom after Voldemort disappeared.

Oh, and his cousins are Fleur and Gabrielle DeLacour who, you know, hate me.

He paused once more, struck by the urge to say something about the anxiety he was feeling regarding the Tournament, not to mention his disgust at all of the supposedly responsible adults deciding that he had to compete even though he was too young to actually qualify.

But if he said that then he'd have to explain about how Ron had turned on him.

That hurt, like a knife to his stomach; his best friend still believed that he'd found a way to get past the age-line and had decided not to share that knowledge with anyone so that he could hold onto all of the glory himself. Hermione claimed he was jealous of the attention.

"Look, it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is," Hermione had explained her reasoning earlier when Harry had expressed his disbelief regarding her assessment of Ron's behaviour. "I know it's not your fault. I know you don't ask for it but, well, you know."

He did know.

He truly did but it still hurt to hear his friend pointing it out like she would a fact in a book.

"Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home," she'd gone on, adding to her explanation as he'd munched on the slices of toast she had brought him from breakfast after he'd failed to appear before the tables were being cleared. "And you're his best friend, Harry, and you're really famous. He's always shunted to one side when people see you and he puts up with it and he never mentions it but I suppose this is just one time too many…"

"Great," Harry had muttered. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants."

No, he couldn't explain everything he was feeling to Sirius in a letter.

Not yet, anyway, not until he'd had time to really process what he feeling.

Currently it was too much of a jumble; fear, anger, anxiety, bitterness…not to mention the unfamiliar yearning sensation he felt whenever he'd been in the presense of Draco Malfoy.

He wanted the older boy to notice him.

He wanted him to pay attention to him, and that…well…that was the complete opposite of what he normally wanted to happen. Normally he would give pretty much anything to pass by unnoticed like everyone else was able to, to simply be a normal student attending class.

No, he didn't need to include his crush on the older champion in this particular letter.

I'll let you know if anything else happens.

Hope you're okay and that Buckbeak isn't causing too much trouble wherever you are.

Harry.

Blowing on the ink to dry the last of it off he folded it, slipped it into a muggle envelope and sealed it by licking the adhesive strip. He couldn't use Hedwig to send the letter, his owl far too easily recognisable, and she was less than impressed with his decision to use a school owl, clicking her beak furiously at him before disappearing into the rafters high above him.

"First Ron, then you," he huffed angrily. "This isn't my fault."

It was relatively easy to avoid everyone for the rest of the day, it being a Sunday so only a few voluntary clubs were running, none of which he belonged to, but come the following morning he could no longer avoid the hordes of people who wanted nothing more than to stare at him. Those who believed that he'd been entered against his will, such as Hermione, were clearly in the minority as almost everyone stopped him to ask him how he'd done it.

He was sick of saying "I didn't" by the time he reached his first lesson of the day.

Whether or not they believed him seemed to have no bearing on how each of the four houses treated him, however; his fellow Gryffindor's were overjoyed to have their own champion, particularly one with his unusual reputation, and kept on congratulating him.

The Ravenclaw's seemed to be of the opinion his stunt was a cry for more attention whilst the Hufflepuff's clearly saw it as an attempt to steal their own legitimate champion's glory.

Herbology was significantly more tense than usual due to the fact that every single Hufflepuff bar Hannah Abbott, refused to so much as speak to him for the duration.

The fact that Ron was also refusing to speak to him only made the lesson more unbearable.

Normally the fact that he had Care of Magical Creatures next would've cheered him up but the fact that it would be the first lesson he shared with the Slytherin's since the champions were selected meant that it was the slowest he'd ever made his was down to Hagrid's hut.

Fleur, predictably, was waiting for him with her usual sneer already in place.

"Oh, look, everyone; it's the champion," she simpered loudly, imitating some of the younger Gryffindor's who had spent breakfast fawning over him for all the world to see. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now because I highly doubt he'll be around for much longer given that half of the Triwizard champions have died during the competition."

She seemed rather excited about his low chance of survival.

"How long do you think you'll last, Potter? I'm betting ten minutes into the first task."

Laughter surrounded him, other Slytherin's calling out their own suggestions for how long it would take for him to get himself killed, and it was only Hagrid's arrival that silenced them.

This pretty much set the tone for the next few days.

It was horrible, easily described as soul destroying, as he felt himself growing more and more lonely with every day that passed with Ron still refusing to so much as look at him.

He could probably have handled everything if one of his best friends hadn't turned on him.

Sleep evaded him more often than not as the week dragged by, far too many hours spent gazing up at the canopy over his bed rather than getting the rest he so desperately needed.

This, combined with the ever rising level of stress he was experiencing, left him even more distracted than usual, particularly during lessons which he found a challenge at the best of times. As time went on, however, he began to struggle in the lessons he usually did well in.

"It's really not that difficult, Harry," Hermione attempted to reassure him after Harry failed to master a simple Summoning Charm in Professor Flitwick's class, the public humiliation of being one of the only students not to achieve the desired result only marginally worse than the additional homework he'd received as a result. "You just weren't concentrating prop…"

"Wonder why that was?" Harry muttered, cutting her off as the pair of them sidestepped to allow Cedric Diggory and his ever present gaggle of supporters to pass unchallenged. Most of the group were girls who until the moment they'd spotted Harry had been simpering and sighing over Cedric; once they'd noticed the younger student who threatened their chosen champion's position they diverted their attention to him in the form of glares and sneers. A bitter sigh escaped him once they'd passed them by. "Honestly, why do people still think that I want all of this? News flash; I don't. Ah, well, never mind that now; Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon and we both know that that's going to be an absolute joy…"

Professor Snape was a nightmare at the best of times but since his name had been drawn from the cup it had become even worse, as though the foul-tempered Potions Master had decided that his purpose in life was no longer to teach but to make Harry's life miserable.

Add to that the fact that they shared the lesson with Fleur DeLacour and the rest of her Slytherin cronies and Double Potions had taken on something akin to a session of torture.

Hermione, worried about the conclusion of her Ancient Runes essay, decided to spend lunch in the library as she had many times before, grabbing a sandwich before she disappeared.

This left Harry to spend lunch alone.

He took his seat, helped himself to some food and tried to ignore the way everyone was staring at him, most of his fellow students not even bothering to be discreet about it, tried to ignore the way Ron turned his back on him where he was sat with Seamus and Dean, both of whom offered Harry an apologetic smile before carrying on their conversation.

A little way down the table the twins waved at him and a little further along from that Ginny offered him a smile that was filled with hero worship, giggling with her fellow Third Years.

Given that he'd been expecting to spend his lunch alone, everyone but Hermione keeping their distance out of distrust, respect or fear, he nearly jumped out of his seat when a pair of bodies sat down on either side of him so close their thighs ended up pressed together.

"Bonjour," the figure to his right greeted him warmly. "Parle vous français?"

"Um…no?"

"Hola," the figure to his left greeted him equally as warmly. "Hablas español?"

"…that would be a no as well," Harry answered sheepishly. "I barely speak English."

Both of his companions laughed, loading up their plates from the variety of foods laid out on the table in front of them. They were from Beauxbatons, judging by their blue uniforms, and he recognised them as being friends of the Draco Malfoy, their schools champion; thankfully there was no sign of the handsome blond who'd featured far too often in his dreams lately.

"Then it is a good thing that we speak English," the Frenchman chuckled, his accent thick but his words clear and easy to understand. He held his hand out to Harry. "Claude Dupont."

"Harry Potter."

"We know," the Spaniard chuckled, offering his own hand next. "Javier de la Fuente."

If he'd been getting attention before it was nothing compared to the way people were staring now that he had been joined by the foreign students given that in the short time they'd been there they'd already become notorious for keeping themselves to themselves.

"Why are you eating alone?"

"Half of my friends are too in awe of me to sit with me," Harry responded bitterly, nodding towards the ones who were gazing at him as though he were Merlin himself. "Whilst the other half hate me for cheating or for finding out a way to enter myself and not sharing it."

"…did you?" Javier enquired softly. "Enter yourself?"

Harry shook his head, tired of explaining himself over and over again.

"And no one believes you?"

"Only my friend Hermione," Harry answered, pulling the crusts off of his cheese and ham sandwich before taking a bite out of the softer centre. "But she had to go to the library."

As one the two boys let out murmurs of understanding.

"…did I really look that pitiful sitting by myself?"

"Not pitiful," Javier hurried to reassure him. "But we did think you looked a little bit lonely all by yourself so we decided that now would be the perfect time to introduce ourselves."

"In the hopes of fostering positive inter-school relations," Claude added with a smile so charming that Harry couldn't stop his gaze from lingering on the soft looking lips, a fact which neither of the older boys failed to notice. "You are in your Fourth Year, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry confirmed, cheeks flushing as his gaze finally dropped away from the handsome smile, focusing instead on the crest embroidered onto the left breast of the boy's blazer and the pin badge that was resting at a somewhat jaunty angle above it. As far as the crest went it was pretty simple, two crossed golden wands on a powder blue field, each emitting three golden stars. It was a pin badge that puzzled him. "…is that a butterfly?"

"Oui," Claude confirmed, tracing the outline of the badge with his fingertip. It was roughly two inches wide, about half the size of the crest in fact, and a brilliant purple colour. "It is the emblem of my house, Papillonlisse. You are a Gryffindor, no? That is the name of the house with the red and gold colours, yes? You have a lion for your house emblem, correct?"

"Yes," Harry responded, his hand fluttering up to smooth down his tie, "to all three."

He turned around, his eyes seeking out the pin attached to the other boy's uniform; judging by the fact that Javier's badge was a deep blue colour with a dozen silver stars surrounding a crescent moon Harry felt secure in assuming that they weren't in the same house at school.

"Ombre Lune," Javier explained without any verbal prompting. "And if my sister and Draco were here you would notice that they belong to the same house; Bellefeuille. A green leaf."

"Papillonlisse, Ombre Lune and Bellefeuille?" Harry repeated, butchering the pronunciation so badly that both Claude and Javier winced ever so slightly. "Are there only three houses?"

"Yes," Javier confirmed. "You have four, correct? Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and…?"

"Ravenclaw."

In spite of everything else going on learning about the other school was surprisingly interesting as up until this year Harry hadn't realised that there were other schools of witchcraft and wizardry scattered around the world. It had been terribly naïve of him, he realised now, to assume that everyone studied at Hogwarts but he wasn't alone; almost every single Muggleborn had been unaware of the existence of the other schools as well.

Only Purebloods and Muggleborns who had actually bothered to read all of 'Hogwarts: A History' rather than just skim the various bits they'd needed to review during their History of Magic classes during their First Year as Harry himself had done had known that there were at least eleven schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry before the arrival of the foreign students. Some of the schools weren't listed by name in 'Hogwarts: A History' nor were there locations given, their need for privacy overruling the prospect of new students.

"…how many houses do they have at Durmstrang?"

"I believe they only have two houses," Javier answered, twisting around in his seat to look across at the Durmstrang students who were sat at the Slytherin table. "North and South."

"They do not have a way of differentiating their houses, however," Claude muttered with obvious disapproval. "Their uniforms all have to be exactly the same and don't let me get started on the rules they have regarding their hair. And nail polish is completely forbidden."

It was only then that Harry noticed that the other boy's nails were painted the same purple as his house colour, the perfect layers of gloss catching in the light from the magical ceiling.

"A heinous crime, of course," Javier muttered fondly before taking a bite of his sandwich and gagging, his face twisting into an expression of utter disgust. "What is that? It tastes…"

Harry leaned over to look at his choice of sandwich.

"Marmite," he answered. "It…well, the polite way of saying it is that it divides opinion."

"It's disgusting," Javier announced passionately, all but throwing the rest of his sandwich back onto his plate before grabbing a glass of water and taking three large gulps. "What could possibly possess anyone to willingly eat such a foul thing? Ugh! I can still taste it…"

"Yeah, the taste will linger for a while," Harry explained apologetically, watching as Claude reached across to pick up the offending sandwich so that he could take a bite himself. He chewed, humming before swallowing and going in for a second bite, smiling over at Javier who let out an indignant cry. Harry chuckled, "Marmite; you either love it or you hate it."

Around them students began to shift, hurriedly finishing off their meals before the bell rung out ordering them back to their lessons, and Harry didn't want to risk being late to Potions.

"It's been nice speaking to both of you but I need to get going," he apologised to the foreign students he'd just spent the lunch hour getting to know. "I have to get to the dungeons."

Claude tutted in disapproval.

"English castles," he muttered. "Honestly, having lessons in the dungeons…"

"Technically I think this is a Scottish castle, rather than an English one," Harry pointed out, rising from his seat on the bench and shouldering his bag. Pausing he held his hand out to the older boys who rose to stand side by side in front of him, Javier literally towering over him whilst Claude was only a little bit taller than he was. "I suppose I'll see you around?"

"Of course," Javier responded brightly, shaking the offered hand. "Enjoy your dungeons."

"That just sounds wrong…" Claude muttered dryly, reaching forward to shake Harry's hand once the other boy released it, his expression turning serious. "Try not to worry about what everyone thinks. If they do not believe you then they are not worth knowing. You should be worrying only about your education, your health and the Tournament. No more than that."

Harry offered him a tight smile.

That was, as the saying went, easier said than done.

Saying his goodbyes he made his way out of the Great Hall, trying his best to ignore the comments about him "fraternising with the enemy", and down into the castles dungeons.

He found Hermione waiting for him outside Snape's classroom, facing off against every single Slytherin in their year, each of whom appeared to be wearing a large yellow badge.

For a moment he thought they were wearing some of Hermione's S.P.E.W badges, although he couldn't fathom why they would have had such a dramatic change of heart regarding the treatment of House Elves, but as he came closer he realised that they were something else.

As he watched a picture of Cedric Diggory's handsome face appeared in the centre of the badges only to disappear in a swirl of deep red ink which then proceeded to form the words,

'Support CEDRIC DIGGORY – the real Hogwarts Champion!'

"Like them, Potter?" Fleur sneered triumphantly as Harry slowed to a halt beside Hermione whose cheeks were flushed with anger. "And this isn't all they do, you know? Here! Look!"

A simple tap to the top of the badge caused the ink to shift colour, becoming a deep green on a sickly green background as a picture of Harry's own face appeared above the words,

'POTTER STINKS!'

One by one the Slytherin's tapped their badges, shifting them to the second message even as their cruel laughter echoed off of the stone walls surrounding them. Harry growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as the rest of his fellow Gryffindor's arrived and took in the scene. Most of them shifted angrily but a couple, Ron included, merely smirked at him.

He could be such a prat sometimes, Harry thought to himself angrily, as he glared at Fleur.

His immediate instinct was to get angry but Claude's words were still lingering in the back of his mind and so, with a deep sigh, he forced his anger to recede and offered Fleur a smirk.

This alone seemed to unnerve the Slytherin, let alone when he finally cooed at her,

"The fact that you want to wear my face on your robes fills me with joy, DeLacour."

Fleur's wasn't the only mouth to drop open in shock.

"I mean, I know you're obsessed with me but I didn't think you'd be so obvious about it."

Someone snorted behind him, the sound drowning out a shocked gasp from someone else, and Harry watched as his enemy floundered for a moment before reaching for her wand…

"Why are you all blocking the hallway like a bunch of ill-mannered sheep?"

Professor Snape's arrival could not have been any timelier, Harry realised, as Fleur was forced to abandon her plan to curse or hex him for daring to humiliate her like he had.

"Five points shall be deducted from the last student to take their seat."

It was a bit of a mad scramble after that, everyone hurrying into the classroom to take their seats as they'd been ordered to, and in the end it was poor Neville who lost the five points.

Striding through the classroom, robes billowing, to take his place in front of the blackboard.

"Antidotes!" he announced grandly, tapping his wand against the blackboard. The chalk rose in response, moving rapidly across the board as it covered it with the information from their previous lesson that would be relevant for them today. "You should all have prepared your recipes now," he went on, his eyes scanning the room as students retrieved their recipes from their bags, some written out on scrolls of thick parchment whilst others, like Harry's, scribbled on a page of muggle notepaper. He hadn't had time to copy it out properly. "I want you to brew them carefully and then we will be selecting someone to test one…"

The fact that his inky black gaze met Harry's as he spoke warned the student that he would be the one testing one of the antidotes, probably the one that had been brewed improperly.

Great, Harry grumbled to himself, he's going to try and poison me.

Before they could get to work a knock sounded, coming from the other side of the door.

"Enter!"

It was Colin Creevey, the promising young photographer who had been more than a little bit obsessed with Harry since coming to Hogwarts. The Third Year flashed a smile across at his hero before forcing his expression into one of politeness as he approached Professor Snape.

"Yes?"

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

He spoke politely, his eagerness bubbling just below the surface, but even then Professor Snape was visibly angered by the request the young student had just passed on to him.

"Potter hasn't even begun to complete his work for my class so I'm afraid that he shall not be going anywhere until my lesson has concluded," Professor Snape informed the young messenger, his cold words drawing snickers from the Slytherin students in the room. A confused frown appeared on Colin's face. "Well? Is there something else you wish to say?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but it's Mr Bagman that wants him," Colin managed to get out, holding out a slip of parchment for the Potions Master to snatch out of his hand. "It's to do with the Tournament. All the champions have got to go; I think they want to take photographs…"

Photographs…

Harry winced as Professor Snape's expression turned positively thunderous as he looked over the parchment, reading the words scratched onto it before checking the signature.

Around him his fellow students shifted to stare at him, some sneering whilst others gazed at him in awe. Only Ron turned away, staring up at the ceiling as his cheeks flushed a deep red.

"Very well," Snape snapped, crumpling the parchment in his hand as he turned to Harry. "Potter, leave your things here; I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, sir," Colin gasped out. "He's got to take his things with him. All the champions…"

To say that Professor Snape's gaze turned icy was an understatement.

"Very well!" he snapped. "Potter, take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Harry had no choice but to swing his bag over his shoulder and, after shooting Hermione a wince, follow Colin out of the classroom and into the deserted corridor. Once the door had shut behind them, separating them from the sea of 'POTTER STINKS' badges, Colin laughed.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry? You being champion."

"Yeah, really amazing," Harry sighed heavily. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"

"The Daily Prophet, I think!"

And of course the young photographer was excited about that, given that he himself had dreams of becoming a professional photographer once he'd graduated from Hogwarts; he was probably imagining himself in the shoes of the photographer that the Prophet had sent.

"Great," Harry muttered. "Just what I need; more publicity."

"Good luck!" Colin exclaimed as they reached their destination. "You're so lucky, Harry!"

Lucky, Harry thought bitterly to himself, oh, yes, I'm so very lucky…

Well, he reasoned, there was no point in putting it off any longer.

Squaring his shoulders he knocked on the door and, after a moment, entered.

A/N This chapter has been sitting mostly written on my computer pretty much since the last time I updated this story and for that I sincerely apologise. I'm afraid my mind just went off Harry Potter for some reason, no idea why, but I'm making use of my time off work during this difficult time to work of some of my poorly neglected stories so I've got myself going with it again. In doing so I've found my love for this alternate universe I created again so hopefully I'll be able to keep this story going. If I've made any silly mistakes after such a long absence please excuse me and let me know what they are so I can correct them. Marblez